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CHEVELEY. 

VOL.  I. 


"  I  apeak 
Of  what  1  know,  and  what  I  feel  within." 

WOKDSWORTH. 

"  Quare  tunc  formandi  mores  (inquit  Erasmus)  cum  mollis  adhuc 
artaa  ;  tunc  optimis  assuescendum  cum  ad  quidvis  cerura  est  inge- 
nium." 

"  Le  marriage  est  une  chose  tres  serieuse  ;  On  ne  peut  pas  trop 
penser — heureux  ceux  qui  en  pense  toute  leurs  vie  '"' 


CHE  VELEY; 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR. 


LADY  .LYTTON   BULWER 


INT  wo     VOLUMES. 

VOL.  L 


NEW-YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   82   CLIFF-ST 

183  9. 


J 


4«T  T  ft  *w 


NO    ONE    NOBODY,    Esq., 

OF    NO     HALL,    NOWHERE. 


Dear  Sir, — Li  dedic  ing  these  volumes  to  you,  I 
acquit  myself  of  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  only  man 
whose  integrity  I  liave  found  imijnpeachable,  and 
whose  friendship  I  have  proved  unvarying.  Among 
the  most  deserving  of  my  own  sex  I  have,  in  many 
instances,  found  sincere  and  unchanging  affection, 
united  with  those  highest  and  rarest  virtues,  which, 
from  adorning,  reconcile  us  to  human  nature,  though 
truth  compels  me  to  acknowledge  that  I  have  known 
others  whose  deep-rooted  selfishness,  puerile  vanity, 
and  vacillating  weakness  of  character  proved  them  to 
be  "nature's  worst  anomalies" — masculine  women! 

In  enumerating  the  catalogue  of  your  virtues,  you 
cannot  tax  me  with  that  servility  of  flattery  which  you 
are  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  would  disdain. 
Since  every  one  is  aware  it  has  even  passed  into  a 
proverb,  that  Nobody  is  perfection.*  In  your  literary 
career  you  have  neither  evinced  nor  experienced  envy ; 
but  then  it  is  acknowledged  on  all  sides  that  your 
A2 


VI  DEDICATION. 

gains  excel  tliat  of  Shakspeare,  Milton,  Byron,  Bacon, 
Locke,  Scott,  and  Moore ;  your  learning  exceeds  that 
of  Bayle,  and  your  science  that  of  Newton.  In  pa- 
triotism you  go  beyond  the  heroes  of  ancient  Rome, 
and  you  are  the  only  person  whose  politics  would  bear 
to  be  analyzed  by  the  most  chymical  scrutiny.  Yet 
here  you  have  shared  the  lot  of  humanity  and  have 
been  the  victim  of  calumny  ;  as  it  is  only  a  short  time 
ago  that  your  friends,  the  Whigs,  accused  you  of  an- 
ticipating Lord  Durham's  speech,  and  sending  it  to 
the  Times.  The  world,  however,  did  not  attach  the 
slightest  credence  to  the  accusation;  yet,  with  un- 
ceasing fidelity,  you,  and  you  only,  continue  to  believe 
the  Whigs  honest !  Your  domestic  virtues,  if  possible, 
exceed  your  public  ones ;  you  are  an  exemplary  hus- 
band, and  such  a  father !  and  with  a  generosity  truly 
unparalleled,  take  upon  yourself  all  the  blame  of  all 
the  mischief  done  in  my  house.  Generally  speaking, 
Folly's  cap  and  bells  are  to  be  found  as  6ften,  if  not 
oftener,  on  the  hoary  head  of  age,  as  on  the  Hyperian 
curls  of  youth ;  but  you  are  an  exception,  for  you  are 
the  only  man  whom  "  flattery  fools  not"  or  interest 
does  not  warp ;  ay,  even  the  small  paltry  interest  of 
a  dinner,  a  speech,  a  paragraph  in  a  newspaper,  or  a 
tabouret  in  a  demoralized  and  demoralizing  coterie. 
"  Such  divinity  doth  hedge"  the  vices  of  men,  that 
no  man  cares  to  expose  or  interfere  with  those  of 
another ;  the  protecting  laws  for  infamy  which  them- 


DEDICATION.  Til 

selves  have  made,  they  must  not,  of  course,  infringe, 
for,  as  Claudian  truly  says, 

"  Patere  legem  quam  ipse  tulisti, 
Incommune  jubes  siquid  censes  ve  tenendum, 
Primus  jussa  subi,  tunc  observantior  arqui, 
Fit  populus,  nee  fere  vetat  cQm  viderit  ipsum 
Autorem  parere  sibi." 

Therefore  is  it  that  whatever  the  injuries,  outrages, 
and  persecutions  of  we  women  may  be,  men  invaria- 
bly, whether  from  cowardice,  coldness,  craft,  caution, 
self-interest,  or  selfishness,  shrink  from  all  interference 
in  our  legitimate  ill-treatment ;  and,  mark  my  words, 
dear  sir,  Sergeant  Talfourd's  Custody  of  Infants'  Bill 
will  never  pass,  for  he  is  only  likely  to  have  your  as- 
sistance, and  with  regard  to  our  sex,  men  are  mem- 
bers of  nature's  inquisition,  whose  profligacy  can  only 
flourish  and  be  protected  by  keeping  the  instruments 
of  torture  in  their  own  hands. 

As  far  back  as  732,  the  cavalry  of  the  Arabians,  like 
that  of  their  ancestors,  the  Parihians,  was  extremely 
formidable,  and  the  Franks  (not  M.  P.'s),  whose  ar- 
mies were  composed  solely  of  infantry,  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  resist  the  attacks  of  so  versatile  an  enemy,  or 
even  to  derive  any  permanent  advantage  from  success. 
So  it  is  with  us  Avomen  ;  our  enemy  is  so  versatile, 
consisting  of  law,  science,  and  might,  that  we  can 
only  fight  after  the  Parthian  fashion,  throw  down  our 
arrows,  and  fly ;  all  our  efibrts  for  justice  or  redress 


via  DEDICATION. 

must  be  unavailing,  till,  as  a  sex,  we  feel  for  and  defend 
ourselves.  Abstract  and  unorganized  efforts  never 
have  and  never  w^ill  achieve  a  victory ;  to  our  indi- 
vidual struggles  men  may  still  answer  like  the  fox  in 
the  fable,  when  the  cat  boasted  her  superior  skill : 

"  Tu  pretends  ^tre  fort  habile, 
En  sais  tu  tant  que  moi?    J'ai  cents  ruses  au  sac, 
Non  dit  I'autre :  je  n'ai  qu'un  tour  dans  men  lussac ; 
Mais  je  soutiens  qu'il  en  vaut  mille." 

And  their  one  trick,  worth  one  thousand,  is  power. 
KnoMdng,  dear  sir,  that  you  are  always  more  busy 
than  any  one  else,  I  will  not  trespass  longer  on  your 
valuable  time  than  to  assure  you  that  I  am,  and  ever 
shall  be, 

Your  devoted  admirer 

And  much  obliged  servant, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CHEVELEY; 

OB, 

THE   MAN    OF   HONOUR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  With  all  its  sinful  doings,  I  must  say 

That  Italy's  a  pleasant  place  to  me, 
Who  love  to  see  the  sun  shine  every  day, 

And  vines  (nut  nail'd  to  walls)  from  tree  to  tree, 
Festoon'd  much  like  the  back  scene  of  a  play. 

Or  melodrama,  which  people  flock  to  see, 
When  the  first  act  is  ended  by  a  dance 
In  vineyards  copied  from  the  south  of  Fiance." 

BVRON. 

For  such  as  believe  that  love  is  and  ought  to  be  om- 
nipotent, the  following  "  tale"  can  have  but  little  attrac- 
tion; and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  those,  the  unmercifully 
virtuous,  who  deem  that  to  "  feel  tempted  is  to  sin," 
and  who,  in  their  notions  of  the  perfectable  capacities 
of  human  nature,  go  beyond  Pythagoras  and  Plato,  it 
will  have  still  less  :  for  to  them,  the  many-languaged 
voice  of  the  passions  is  the  unknown  tongue  of  St, 
Paul,  requiring  interpretation  ;  they  are,  indeed,  "  righ- 
teous over  much,"  yet  wanting  all 

"The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion." 

Oh!  how  many  unranonized  martyrs  (here  are  in  ev- 
ery-day  domestic  life,  hourly  warring  both  with  the 
flesh  and  the  spirit  (and  literally  taking  up  their  cross 
daily);  and  this  must  ever  be  the  case  as  long  as  men 
continue  to  enforce  the  laws,  of  God  grammatically, 
thereby  assuming  a  wide  difference  between  the  mas- 
culine and  feminine,  which  is  nowhere  to  be  found  in 
the  text!  "  C'est  une  triste  metier  que  celle  de  fem- 
me,"  says  the  French  proverb,  and  it  says  truly.    In 


10  cheveley;  or, 

society,  the  worst-conducted  women  generally  fare  the 
best,  because  their  provocations  to  misconduct  are 
often  most  humanely  and  charitably  allowed  ;  while  the 
really  virtuous  almost  invariably  find  coolness  and  in- 
sensibility, or  want  of  temptation,  the  only  merits 
awarded  to  them.""  But  it  is  in  England  alone  that  there 
is  a  dark  and  Jesuitical  hypocrisy  in  the  systematically 
unjust  conduct  of  men  towards  women;  aud  those  gen- 
tlemen who  write  the  most  liberally  and  lachrymosely 
about  the  errors  of  female  education,  which  tends  to 
stultify  their  intellect,  warp  their  judgment,  weaken  the 
moral  tone  of  their  natures,  and  in  every  way  unfit 
them  to  be  the  friends  and  companions  of  men,  are  the 
very  first  practically  to  labour  for  this  state  of  things, 
which  they  affect  to  deprecate.  As  most  husbands  ap- 
pear to  think,  that  if  their  wives  have  a  second  idea, 
the  world  cannot  be  large  enough  for  them  both,  any 
more  than  two  suns  can  shine  in  one  hemisphere.  But 
the  manner  of  evincing  this  opinion  is  even  more  offen- 
sive than  the  opinion  itself,  as  they  never  cease  to 
"  affiche"  the  veto  that  women  have  no  right  even  to 
mental  free  will,  and  are  as  much  surprised  at  their 
daring  to  express  an  opinion  different  to  that  they  have 
been  commanded  to  entertain,  as  if  the  ground  on  which 
they  walked  vv^ere  suddenly  to  exclaim,  "  Don't  trample 
on  me  so  hardly  !"  Then  come  the  ex  parte  judgments 
of  how  few  th'ngs  ought  to  annoy  or  please  others,  a 
matter  peri>ctly  impossible  to  be  decided  upon  but  by 
self;  so  true  is  the  assertion  of  Epictetus,  "that  men 
are  more  tormented  by  the  opinion  of  things  than  by  the 
things  themselves." 

To  those  who  require  in  print  the  extremes  of  virtue 
and  vice,  which  are  not  in  human  nature,  1  repeat  that 
these  volumes  can  have  little  attraction ;  but  to  such  as 
are  aware  that  our  nature,  like  our  fate,  is  of  "  a  min- 
gled yarn  of  good  and  evil,'''  there  may  be  something  in 
them  not  wholly  uninteresting. 

Heir  to  a  marquisate  and  immense  wealth,  his  father 
dying  when  he  was  little  more  than  five  years  old,  and 
his  mother  before  he  was  twenty,  Augustus  Mowbray 
was  the  spoiled  child  of  nature  and  fortune;  conse- 
quently, at  the  age  of  eight- and-twenty  (the  period  when 
this  history  commences),  he  had  begun  to  consider 
mankind  as  divided  into  two  great  classes,  the  boring 
and  the  bored :  the  first  being  formed  by  those  who 


THB    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  11 

write  and  talk,  and  the  latter  by  those  who  read  and 
listen,  "  blase  sur  tout."  His  creed  was  taken  from 
that  pilhy  line  in  the  "  Rejected  Addresses,"  which  as- 
serts that  "  naught  is  everything,  and  everj'thing  is 
naught."  This  truth,  which  he  felt  every  moment  of 
his  life,  strange  to  say,  only  impelled  him  the  more  vio- 
lently to  be  eternally  in  search  of  something :  the  un- 
known future  was  always  to  him  "  that  bless'd  Canaan 
that  should  come  at  last,"  and  locomotion  he  deemed 
the  only  method  by  which  it  could  be  attained. 

To  Italy  once  more,  then,  he  determined  to  wend  his 
waj',  in  his  Sisyphus  task  of  toiling  after  happiness.  As 
a  burned  child  dreads  the  fire,  so  most  persons  dread  a 
story,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  abroad,  as  they  almost 
invariably  find  themselves,  like  Marius  amid  the  ruins 
of  Carthage,  overwhelmed  with  towers,  turrets,  temples, 
statues,  palaces,  prisons,  aqueducts,  and  fountains  ;  but 
in  these  pages  they  will  have  nothing  of  this  sort  either 
to  fear  or  to  hope  ;  and  let  those  who  are  not  already 
sated  with  descriptions  of  "  the  sweet  South,"  read  Mrs. 
Starke,  believe  Childe  Harold,  and  dream  of  Corinne. 

Horace  Walpole  complains  of  having  "  lived  post"  all 
his  life;  poor  man — that  was  nothing!  Mowbray  had 
lived  steam  !  and,  consequently,  had  had  no  time  to  like, 
much  less  to  love  anything ;  yet  there  was  a  similarity 
in  their  fates.  Horace  had  one  happy  moment,  which 
he  describes  by  saying  "  Tanton"  (the  dog  Madame  du 
Defand  sent  him),  "Tanton  and  I  jumped  into  a  bed 
as  hot  as  an  oven."  Now  Mowbray's  happy  moment 
was,  when  he  jumped  into  a  britschka  with  his  friend 
Saville,  as  easy  as  Collinge's  axletree  and  under-springs 
could  make  it,  and  found  himself  on  his  road  to  Italy 
for  the  fourth  time,  literally  in  search  of  a  pursuit ! 

"  In  England,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  opening.  Love 
is  like  everything  else  in  our  nation  of  shopkeepers, 
wholly  commercial  in  politics  :  one  is  a  mere  Dogberry, 
eternally  looking  back  upon  all  the  political  Shakspeares 
who  have  stolen  one's  best  ideas  (alias  speeches)  ;  and 
as  for  society,  one  is  tired  of  stalking  from  room  to  room, 
night  after  night,  like  a  resuscitated 

" '  Sir  Plume,  of  amber  snuffbox  justly  vain, 
And  the  nice  conduct  of  a  dandled  cane.' " 

In  short,  in  England  one  has  the  "  far  niente"  without 
the  "  dolce ;"  and  it  was  of  the  latter  he  went  in  quest, 


12  CHEVELEY  j    OR, 

in  the  very  worst  state  of  our  national  malady,  "  domo- 
phobia."  From  Paris  to  Geneva,  tlie  travellers  contri\  ed 
to  sleep  nearly  the  whole  way ;  thus  prudently  provi- 
ding against  th,e  time  when  moschetoes  and  other  Ital- 
ian miseries  would  "  murder  sleep."  They  had  slept 
through  a  most  splendid  and  terrific  storm  in  the  Jura 
Mountains,  when  they  were  disagreeably  awakened  by 
a  sudden  stoppage,  and  the  audible  "  sacres"  of  their 
scapin  of  a  courier,  Luigi  Andare.  "  Canaille  que  vous 
fetes,"  cried  the  indignant  Colossus  of  Roads,  "  Je  par- 
lerais  moi  raeme  a  monseigneur  ei  dame,  vous  avez  beau 
parler,  qu'est  ce  que  9a  me  fait  moi,  si  monseigneur  etait 
le  pape  il  ne  pourrail  pas  faire  des  chevaux  J'espere]" 

The  cause  of  this  dilennna  was,  that  Prince  Borghese 
having  taken  up  twenty  liorses,  there  Avas  none  left  for 
them;  but  Andare,  nothir.g  daunted,  after  first  casting 
a  mingled  look  of  vengeance  and  contempt  on  the  phleg- 
matic maitre  de  poste  (who  stood  philosophically  look- 
ing on,  with  a  hand  in  each  pocket),  approached  the 
prince's  carriage,  cap  in  hand,  and  so  eloquently  repre- 
sented to  him  the  propriety  of  sparing  his  master  one 
horse  from  each  of  Ins  highnesses  carriages,  that,  with  a 
bow  to  them  and  a  bene-benc  to  him.  the  triumphant 
Luigi,  with  one  hand,  poinied  to  have  the  liorses  taken 
off,  while  he  sliook  the  other  menacingly  doubled  at  the 
maitre  de  poste.  Then  ensued  a  vituperative  patois, 
long  and  loud,  between  these  worthies,  that  echoed  above 
the  thunder  through  the  mountains.  "  What  the  deuse 
do  they  sayT'  asked  Saville. 

"  Why,"  said  Mowbray,  taking  upon  him  the  office 
of  interpreter,  '•  there  are  some  threats  about  eternal 
disgrace  and  throat-cutting;  but  whether  yours,  mine, 
Andare's,  or  the  lualtre  de  poste's,  is  to  be  the  victim- 
ised thorax,  I  cannot  take  upon  me  precisely  to  say." 

"Down,  Prince!  down,  sir!"  said  Mowbray  to  a 
large  black  bloodhound,  who,  for  the  purpose  of  better 
barking  at  the  oratorical  maitre  de  poste,  had  just 
leaped  up  and  viied  to  insinuate  himself  as  Bodkin  be- 
tween the  two  friends. 

How  I  do  pity  dogs  condemned  to  travel,  especially 
large  ones,  like  the  "  Black  Prince"  in  question  !  Poor 
things,  they  seem,  with  their  drooping  ears,  melancholy 
eyes,  and  cramped  paws,  to  go  a  step  beyond  Madame 
de  Stael  in  their  estimation  of  locomotive  delights,  and 
think  that  travelling  is  not  "  le  plus  triste  de  tous  les 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  13 

plaisirs,"  but  "  plus  triste  de  tous  les  peines."  The 
gentlemen  in  the  rumble  having  condescendingly  united 
their  efforts  with  those  of  Andare,  the  five  contributed 
horses  were  soon  put  to,  and  our  travellers  once  more 
"  en  route."  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
have  brought  together  two  more  opposite  characters  in 
effect  than  Mowbray  and  Saville,  though  their  element- 
ary qualities  were  much  the  same.  The  only  difference 
consisted  in  the  former  having  greater  enthusiasm  of 
character,  the  latter  greater  enthusiasm  of  manner. 
Saville  could  not  descant  upon  a  tree,  a  picture,  or  a 
cloud,  without  speaking  as  if  his  whole  being  were 
wrapped  up  in  the  subject ;  while  Mowbray,  on  the 
contrary,  who  was  capable  of  feeling  the  effects  of  each 
much  more  deeply,  would  converse  lightly,  naj',  almost 
coldly  and  critically,  about  them.  Saville  would  write 
the  most  passionate  love-letters,  but  the  chivalric  ro- 
mance of  Mowbray's  nature  could  make  sacrifices  which 
Saville  could  not  even  comprehend  ;  yet  w^ere  they  both 
generous,  both  high-minded,  both  clever.  Hence  the 
cement  of  their  friendship ;  for  it  is  a  mistake,  and  an 
egregious  one,  to  suppose  that  we  like  our  opposites. 
We  do  not  like  our  opposites — how  should  we  I  Since 
sympathy  is  the  great  tie  between  all  human  beings,  as 
is  usual  with  superficial  observers,  who  generally  con- 
trive to  mistake  the  effect  for  the  cause,  tliis  popular 
fallacy  has  grown  into  a  proverb.  The  truth  is,  we  all 
like  different  results  produced  from  the  same  sources ; 
just  as  the  world  is  fertilized  by  differently  directed 
rills,  that  all  flow  from  one  parent  stream  :  but  who 
ever  heard  of  a  generous  and  liberal  nature  feeling  a 
strong  affection  for  a  miserly  and  sordid  one  ?  though  a 
person  who  was  merely  constitutionally  lavish,  would 
feel  not  only  affection,  but  the  greatest  admiration  for  a 
person  who  might  in  his  personal  expenditure  appear 
parsimonious,  in  order  to  have  in  reality  the  power  of 
gratifying  a  generosit)'^  founded  on  principle.  Wits,  in- 
deed, might  love  their  fellow-wits  the  better,  were  their 
field  of  action  not  always  to  be  the  same.  Still,  in  or- 
der to  appreciate  wit,  a  person  must  himself  possess  it. 
Who  would  care  to  be  a  Voltaire,  if  all  the  world  were 
to  be  "des  Pere  Adam,"  Orpheus  being  t'i«  only  per- 
sonage on  record  who  had  the  enviable  power  of 
charming  brutes !  What  do  persons  mean  by  an  agree- 
able companion  1  Certainly  not  one  who  moudpolizes 
Vol.  I.— B 


14  CHEVELEY  ;    OH, 

the  whole  conversation,  but  as  certainly  one  who  can 
converse.  And  what  does  a  brave  person  despise  so 
much  as  a  coward  1  An  ill-tempered  person  may  in- 
deed like,  "  par  preference,"  a  good-tempered  one,  who 
hears  and  bears  with  him  ;  but  did  this  goodness  of 
temper  merely  proceed  from  an  apathetic  coldness, 
which  nothing  could  move,  the  odds  are,  they  would 
detest  them,  and  would  rather  they  met  on  equal  terms 
in  single  combat  twenty  times  a  day.  For  one  great 
proof  of  sympathy  being  the  electric  conductor  of  hu- 
man affections,  look  at  the  members  of  all  professions, 
and  their  standard  of  greatness  is  measured  by  what 
they  themselves  pursue.  A  music  master  will  talk 
with  tears  in  his  eyes  of  Mozart  or  Rossini,  and  ex- 
claim, "  those,  indeed,  are  truly  great  men !"  Talley- 
rand (if  he  could  feel)  would  have  felt  the  same  towards 
Machiavel.  Madame  Michaud  no  doubt  places  Tagli- 
oni  somewhere  in  the  calendar  between  St.  Catharine 
and  Santa  Teresa ;  and  I'll  venture  to  assert  that  no 
rigid  governess  passed  the  grand  climacteric,  bent  upon 
teazing  her  pupils  to  skeletons,  and  therefore  piquing 
herself  upon  her  inflexible  justice,  but  worships  the 
name  of  Aristides,  and  never  looks  upon  a  shell  with- 
out a  shudder  of  indignation.  So  much  for  the  theory 
of  people  liking  their  opposites  ! 

I  only  know  one  instance  in  which  this  is  the  case, 
and  I  believe  it  is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  one :  I 
allude  to  the  weakness  of  ugly  men  generally  preferring 
handsome  women  to  their  own  softened  images.  The 
great  reason  why  men  have  no  sympathy  with  women 
is,  that  the  essential  selfishness  of  their  own  natures 
prevents  their  comprehending  the  anti-selfishness  of 
the  other  sex  ;  and  while  they  are  eternally  demanding 
as  their  right,  sympathy  from  them,  even  for  their  vices, 
they  laugh  at  many  of  their  feehngs,  merely  because  they 
cannot  understand  them  ;  in  short,  that  excellent  prov- 
erb, "  Love  me,  love  my  dog,"  is  the  alpha  and  omega 
of  the  doctrine  of  sympathy. 

Little  worth  mentioning  occurred  to  the  travellers 
till  they  reached  the  watchmaking  city  of  Geneva ;  for 
it  is  useless  to  tell  of  the  bad  supper  they  got  at  Genlis 
(almost  as  bad  as  the  sentiment  and  morality  of  its 
namesake,  the  quack  comtesse),  or  of  the  good  wine 
they  got  at  Morez.  Weary  and  cold,  they  entered  Ge- 
neva of  a  fine  September  morning — before  Mont  Blanc 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  15 

had  thrown  off  her  "misty  shroud,"  or  Monta  Rosa 
blushed  into  hght — too  sleepy  to  heed  even  the  legenda- 
ry murmuring  of  the  gentle  lake,  or  the  "  blue  rushing 
of  the  arrowy  Rhone ;"  turned  away  from  every  imi 
within  that  most  dirty  and  unbeauteous  town  ;  and  driv- 
en by  necessity  in  the  shape  of  two  faded  and  ill-tem- 
pered postillions,  they  at  length  reached  Secheron,  and 
soon  found  themselves  in  two  of  Monsieur  de  Jeans 
most  clean  and  comfortable  beds ;  not  thinking  of  the 
past,  and  not  dreaming  of  the  future. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  E'en  as  the  tenderness  that  hour  instils, 
When  summer's  day  declines  along-  the  hills ; 
So  feels  the  fulness  of  the  heart  and  eyes, 
When  all  of  genius  that  can  perish — dies." 

Lord  Byron's  Monody  on  the  death  of  Sheridan. 

"  And  is  there  then  no  earthly  place, 

Where  we  may  rest  in  dream  Elysian, 

Without  some  cursed,  round  English  face 

Popping  up  near  to  break  the  vision  ?" 

MoORE. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  P.M.,  when  Mowbray,  {rffm 
his  bedroom  windows,  espied  Saville  in  deep  conference 
at  the  end  of  the  garden  with  the  triton  of  the  lake,  who 
was  busily  unmooring  the  boat  and  pointing  to  the  op- 
posite shore.  He  put  on  his  hat,  and  soon  stood  beside 
him. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "  I  suppose  you  are  going 
over  to  Lord  Byron's  house ;  and  as  I  perceive  you  are 
getting  up  a  sensation,  I  will  promise  not  to  interrupt 
you,  only  let  me  go  with  you." 

Saville  laughed,  and  they  sprang  into  the  boat  togeth- 
er :  by  mutual  consent  they  seemed  to  drink  in  the  quiet 
beauty  of  the  scene,  for  neither  of  them  spoke  till  they 
reached  the  other  side  ;  when,  from  the  confused  direc- 
tions of  the  boy  who  had  rowed  them,  it  seemed  doubt- 
ful whether,  at  the  end  of  their  ramble,  they  should  find 
themselves  at  Shelley's  or  Lord  Byron's  house. 

However,  trusting  to  their  stars,  and  preceded  by 


16  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

Prince,  they  began  ascending  the  steep  narrow  lane  that 
leads  into  the  little  village ;  they  at  length  got  to  the 
wilderness  of  vineyards  that  bursts  upon  one  previous 
to  the  turn  which  leads  to  the  house  ;  that  house  which 
seems  almost  emblematic  of  the  fortunes  of  its  once- 
gifted  tenant — all  that  relates  to  its  domestic  and  home- 
ward state,  so  chill  and  desolate.  The  rusty  iron  gates, 
the  grass-grown  court,  the  dried-up  fountain,  the  two 
leafless  trees,  and  the  long-echoing  and  melancholy- 
sounding  bell ;  this  is  the  homeside  of  the  house  only 
seen  by  the  few  ! 

The  very  air  feels  chill  and  looks  dark,  while  the  side 
next  the  lake  is  imbosomed  in  fertile  terraces ;  the 
house  itself  standing  upon  an  eminence,  as  if  marked  out 
as  a  focus  for  the  gaze  of  the  wide  world  of  beauty  it 
looks  down  upon,  while  an  eternal  sunlight  seems  to 
throw  a  halo  and  gild  into  brightness  everything  in  and 
around  it. 

The  present  owner,  an  English  gentleman  of  the 
name  of  Wilhs,  though  at  home,  very  obligingly  per- 
mitted the  friends  to  go  over  it.  On  the  left-hand  side 
of  the  hall  is  a  little  study  opening  on  a  terrace,  where 
the  poet  used  to  write,  and  from  which  Lake  Leman 
looks  its  best ;  farther  on  is  a  large  and  comfortable 
drawing-room,  which  has  two  different  views  of  the  lake  ; 
outside  this  room,  in  the  centre  of  the  hall,  is  a  staircase 
which  leads  to  the  bedrooms,  which  are  divided  by  a 
little  gallery,  lined  with  pictures,  or,  rather,  old  por- 
traits, some  of  them  curious  enough.  On  the  right  of 
this  gallery  is  the  room  Lord  Byron  used  to  sleep  in, 
with  its  little  tent-bed,  and  its  one  window,  looking  out 
upon  the  vineyards  and  the  lake :  in  one  corner  of  this 
room  stands  an  old  walnut-tree  escritoire,  on  two  of 
the  drawers  of  which,  written  on  white  paper,  in  his 
own  hand,  are  the  following  labels — "  Bills" — "  Lady 
Byron's  Letters." 

"  Now,  really,"  said  Mowbray,  "  though  one  is  apt 
to  laugh  at  people  who  run  miles  to  look  on  those  who 
have  seen  '  Sir  Walter's  head.  Lord  Byron's  hat,'  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  yet  1  confess  that  1  cannot  look 
round  this  little  room,  and  upon  these  spots  of  ink, 
which  I  dare  say  he  dashed  impatiently  out  of  his  pen 
as  he  put  '  the  letters'  into  the  drawer,  without  a  weak- 
ness that  brings  my  heart  into  my  eyes ;  for  one  feels 
a  part  of  one's  own  being  annihilated  when  one  thinks 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  17 

that  a  mighty  spirit  has  passed  from  the  earth  for  ever, 
while  such  frail  memorials  of  it  as  these  remain  long 
after  to  remind  us  of  it !" 

"  This  from  you,  Mowbray,  of  all  people  in  the  world  ! 
Why,  I  did  not  know  you  were  such  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  Lord  Byron's." 

"  Of  the  man,  perhaps  not ;  but  of  the  genius,  yes ; 
though  I  am  not  sure  he  was  worse  than  his  peers  in 
that  respect.  I  have  long  had  a  pet  theory  concerning 
authors  ;  I  doubt  very  much  if  the  outside  of  a  beautiful 
face  is  more  different  from  the  hone  and  arteries  that 
compose  it  within,  than  are  books  from  their  authors; 
indeed,  so  strongly  am  I  imbued  with  this  idea,  that  I 
sometimes  fancy  Dr.  Johnson  must  have  been  in  reality 
an  atheist,  and  Tom  Paine  a  fanatic!" 

Just  at  this  moment  Prince,  who  was  sitting  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  with  his  ears  erect,  blinking  his 
eyes  at  a  sunbeam,  crouched  his  head  for  a  moment, 
and  then  lifting  up  his  face,  gave  three  of  those  shrill, 
melancholy  howls,  with  which  dogs  sometimes  startle 
the  superstitious.  What  could  it  be  ?  Was  it  the  shade 
of  Byron,  hke  that  of  Theseus  on  Marathon,  wliich  had 
passed  aiui  "  smote  without  a  blow  V  Tlie  poor  animal 
seemed  evidently  uncomfortable,  and  walking  to  the 
door,  scratched  and  listened  at  it  till  his  master  let  him 
out.  They  cast  "  one  long,  lingering  look"  at  the  little 
deserted  chamber,  and  descended  once  more  into  the 
grass-grown  court.  They  had  scarcely  drawn  the  rusty 
iron  gate  after  them,  albeit  in  no  merry  mood,  when, 
lo  !  puffing  and  panting  up  the  lane,  one  of  those  ubi- 
quitous rubicund  Anglo  visions  burst  upon  them,  which 
let  no  wayworn  traveller  in  a  foreign  land  hope  to  es- 
cape. It  was  no  less  a  personage  than  one  of  their 
outlawed  compatriots,  Major  Nonplus,  taking  his  appe- 
titenal  walk  before  dinner,  and  looking,  in  his  red  Bel- 
cher cravat,  Flamingo  face,  and  scarlet  waistcoat,  for 
all  the  world  like  an  ambulating  carbuncle  trying  to 
extinguish  the  setting  sun. 

Major  Nonplus  was  one  of  those  clever,  managing 
mortals,  who,  witli  little  money  or  credit,  always  con- 
trived to  keep  more  carriages,  horses,  and  houses  than 
any  one  else ;  lie  was  also  one  of  those  innumerable 
"  best-natured  creatures  in  the  world,"  always  bent  upon 
making  everybody  comfortable,  and  therefore  succeed- 
ing in  making  everybody  miserable.  Had  a  dowager 
B  S 


18  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

manoeuvred  so  as  her  daughter  should  sit  next  a  duke's 
elder  son,  or  a  snobbish  "  millionaire"  of  a  county 
member  at  dinner,  Major  Nonplus  instantly  started  up 
and  divided  them  on  the  gallant  and  facetious  plea,  that 
he  could  not  possibly  sit  next  to  Mrs.  Nonplus  (to  whose 
tender  mercies  he  had  been  purposely  consigned).  Was 
he  admitted  to  a  morning  visit  by  some  Johnny  Raw 
of  a  footman  (for  in  all  houses  uhere  he  had  appeared 
twice,  a  preventive  .porter  was  stationed,  who  knew 
him  to  be  contraband),  and  saw  two  friends  confiden- 
tially conversing,  he  invariably  out-stayed  the  first 
comer,  thinking  that  the  host  or  hostess  would  enjoy 
an  agreeable  "  t6le-a-tete"  witJi  him  '■'■when  the  coast  loas 
clear .'"  Did  he  encounter  two  lovers  in  a  shady  walk, 
he  instantly  joined  them,  "fearing  the  young  people 
might  be  dull."  Did  the  mother  of  five  "  pelican  daugh- 
ters" (all  unmarried)  happen  to  observe  with  a  sigh, 
that  she  had  never  been  at  Clifton  but  once,  when  her 
youngest  darling  Jemima  had  the  scarlet  fever,  the 
major  instantly  observed,  with  that  chronological  mem- 
ory so  dreadfully  prevalent  among  common  people, 

"Ah,  I  perfectly  remember  it  was  there  I  first  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  you :  let  me  see — that  was  in 
the  autumn  of  ninety-eight,  and  Miss  Jemima  was  then 
a  little  urchin  of  four  or  five  years  old,  and  a  remarkably 
clever,  forward  little  thing  she  was  too  ;  any  one  would 
have  taken  her  for  seven  or  eight.  True,  I  assure  you 
— I  never  flatter!" 

Did  he  encounter  an  acquaintance  in  a  packet,  whose 
wife  some  three  years  before  might  have  eloped  from 
him,  the  major  would  instantly,  before  the  assembled 
audience  on  the  quarter-deck,  grasp  his  hand,  and  calling 
him  by  his  name,  assure  him,  though  he  had  never 
written  to  hiin  since  poor  l\Irs.  So-and-So's  mishap, 
that  he  most  sincerely  pitied  him  !^^,  Did  he  venture  to 
bet  on  a  rubber,  when  congratulates  upon  his  good  luck 
in  winning  by  the  person  he  had  betted  upon,  he  would 
reply  with  an  amiable  candour  that  baffles  all  descrip- 
tion: "  My  dear  fellow,  I  owe  it  all  to  you;  I  saw  you 
revoke  when  your  adversary's  queen  was  out,  and  then 
I  knew  the  game  must  be  yours,  and  so  I  betted  upon 
you." 

The  major,  though  no  logician,  was  rich  in  proverbs, 
which  he  called  to  his  assistance  upon  all  occasions; 
and  one  he  practically  illustrated  in  his  costume,  viz., 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  19 

that  "  familiarity  breeds  contempt ;"  for  which  reason 
there  was  always  a  species  of  Scotch  divorce  subsisting 
between  his  waistcoat  and  trousers,  and  between  the 
latter  and  his  Wellington  boots ;  though,  to  be  sure,  as 
"  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before"  in  the  shape 
of  great  rotundity  of  form,  these  garments  had  not  alto- 
gether the  merit  of  prescience  in  the  respectful  distance 
they  kept  from  each  other.  There  w-as  one  very  re- 
markable circumstance  attending  Major  Nonplus,  w-hich 
was,  that  no  one  ever  yet  met  him,  that  he  had  not  either 
just  come  into  a  legacy  of  £70,000,  or  just  been  defrauded 
out  of  a  similar  sum  :  the  former  solved  the  enigma  of  a 
house  in  Park-lane  and  a  stud  at  Melton,  while  the  latter 
as  satisfactorily  accounted  for  a  cottage  in  the  Tyrol. 
But  whether  the  aforesaid  £70,000  was  among  the  fash- 
ionable arrivals  or  departures  in  the  major's  fate,  it  made 
little  difference  in  his  hospitality,  which,  however,  was 
always  in  the  future  tense ;  and  though  sure  of  an  in- 
vitation to  his  house,  at  whichever  side  of  the  channel 
the  invited  found  himself,  yet  he  could  only  hail  it,  as 
the  witches  hailed  Macbeth  on  his  Thane  of  Cawdor- 
ship,  '•^  that  IS  to  be."  Among  his  other  delightful  at- 
tributes, he  seemed  to  have  realized  Sir  Boyle  Roach's 
idea  of  a  bird,  and  possess  the  power  of  being  "  in  two 
places  at  once  ;"  for  no  sooner  had  A  left  him,  "  taking 
tea  and  toast  upon  the  wall  of  China,"  than  B  would 
write  word  he  had  encountered  him 

"  'Mid  the  blacks  of  Carolina." 

This  ambulating  lottery-office  now  advanced,  looking 
as  blank  as  the  loss  of  £70,000  could  make  him ;  but 
extending  two  stumpy  fingers  of  each  hand  to  Saville 
and  Mowbraj^  exclaimed, 

"  Bless  me  !  delighted  to  see  you.  Heard  how  that 
rascal  Price  Hatton  has  behaved  to  me?  By  George! 
sir,  done  me  out  of  £70,000 !  Obliged  to  cut  and  run ; 
left  poor  Mrs.  Nonplus  buried  alive  in  the  Tyrol  (where, 
by-the-by,  you  must  come  and  see  us  in  the  spring ;  not 
now,  for  it's  damp,  misty,  and  disagreeable),  and  Pve 
just  come  to  Geneva  to  see  what's  going  on.  Things 
have  come  to  a  pretty  pass,  when  a  man  goes  to  Gene- 
va for  news;  but  when  one  goes  upon  tkk,  can't  come 
to  a  better  place,  eh?  ha!  ha!  ha!  Ah!  been  to  see 
Lord  Byron's  house,  I  suppose?     Nothing  very  tasti/ 


20  chevblby;  or, 

about  it ;  saw  the  cabinet,  with  the  label  about  Lady 
B.'s  letters;  curious,  isn't  it!  Understand  he  used  to 
talk  about  her  sometimes." 

"  Indeed !"  said  Saville  and  Mowbray,  in  a  breath. 
"  What  used  he  to  say  of  her." 

"  Oh !  that  he  hoped  they  should  never  meet  again. 
Interesting  anecdote,  isn't  it  ?  Thought  it  might  please 
her  to  know  that  he  sometimes  spoke  of  her  ('cause  it 
showed  that  he  thought  of  her),  and  was  going  to  write 
and  tell  her  this  little  anecdote ;  but  as  Mrs.  Nonplus 
justly  observed,  people  are  so  odd,  and  one  never  gets 
thanked  for  doing  a  good-natured  thing ;  so  I  thought  I 
had  better  not." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Mowbray,  laughing. 
"  I  dare  say  she  never  would  have  had  the  gratitude  to 
thank  you  for  so  great  a  piece  of  kindness.''^ 

"  Very  likely  not,"  said  the  innocent  major.  "  Been 
to  see  Ferney  yet  V 

"  No  ;  we  only  came  last  night." 

"  Oh !  well,  that's  all  right.  /  can  put  you  in  the  way 
of  these  things,  you  see :  hire  a  '  char-a-banc'  to-mor- 
row ;  don't  go  in  your  carriage ;  nobody  does  it  here 
(ahem!  for  a  very  good  reason).  I'd  lend  you  one  of 
mine,  but  Mrs.  Nonplus  has  got  the  chariot,  the  girls 
have  taken  the  britschka,  and  Tom — you  know  my  son 
Tom — at  school  when  you  saw  him — now  a  great  strap- 
ping fellow  in  the  Kifles — well,  Tom's  got  the  phaeton. 
So  you  see  I'm  reduced  to  the  marrowbone  stage.  Fll 
go  with  you,  and  that  will  save  you  from  that  old  bore 
of  a  gardener,  who  says  he  remembers  Rousseau — no, 
Voltaire,  isn't  it? — and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  and  I'll 
explain  aivaij  as  long  as  you  like  ;  besides,  I  suppose 
you've  got  Mrs.  Starke ;  for  all  the  English  abroad  are 
Starke  mad — ha!  ha!  ha!  not  bad,  is  it  1" 

"  We  are  going  to  Chamouni  to-morrow,  thank  you," 
gasped  Mowbray,  trying  to  struggle  with  the  boring  ad- 
hesiveness of  the  major. 

"  Oh !  well,  any  oth— " 

"  I  fear,"  interrupted  Saville,  perceiving  he  was  about 
to  volunteer  his  services  to  an  any  day  period,  "  I  fear 
we  shall  be  late  for  dinner." 

"Bless  me  !  I  hope  not,"  said  the  major,  pulling  his 
warming-pan  of  a  watch  out  of  his  gulf  of  a  fob ;  "  for 
I  am  engaged  to  dine  with  Signer  Bartiloni,  the  owner 
of  the  pretty  villa  at  the  other  side  of  the  water," 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  21 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  Mowbray  ;  "  for  perhaps 
you  would  have  dined  with  us." 

"  Oh!  my  dear  fellow,  I'd  much  rather  do  that,  now 
you  mention  it.  I  can  see  Bartiloni  any  day ;  but  you're 
on  the  wing;  so,  if  you'll  allow  me,  I'll  just  row  over 
and  tell  them  not  to  expect  me,  and  I'll  be  with  you  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye ;  but  don't  wait  a  moment  for 
me ;  and  just  mention  my  name,  and  tell  Dejean  to  let 
you  have  some  of  that  creaming  Burgundy  of  his,  of 
the  vintage  of  '21 ;  it's  the  right  thing,  I  assure  you  ;  and 
his  sherry  is  very  fair ;  but  you'll  find  the  Madeira  bet- 
ter; and  I  should  advise  you  to  slick  to  that^ 

And  so  saying,  the  major  vanished,  leaving  the  friends 
in  perfect  despair  at  his  non-anticipated  acceptance  of 
their  invitation. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  Mowbray,  this  will  be  a  lesson  to 
you  never  to  trust  to  Major  Nonplus's  being  engaged 
twelve  deep ;  for  you  see  liis  friendship  for  you  is  such, 
that  he  is  ready  to  jilt  any  one  for  the  pleasure  of  your 
society." 

Mowbray  laughed  ;  and  on  reaching  the  boat,  address- 
ed some  inquiries  to  the  boy,  touching  the  unhappy  Sig- 
ner Bartiloni,  whom  they  were  about  to  deprive  of  the 
major's  company.  The  first  information  they  reaped 
was,  that  he  was  at  the  time  being  in  Paris,  and  was  not 
expected  home  for  a  month ;  at  which  they  exchanged 
looks  and  smiles.  On  arriving  at  the  inn,  they  found 
their  guest  domiciled  before  them,  making  the  tour  of 
a  tub  of  ice,  and  equally  dividing  his  attentions  between 
three  long-necked  spinster-like-looking  bottles  and  two 
of  more  matronly  dimensions. 

"  Ah !  you  see  I'm  to  the  minute ;  thought  it  better  to 
order  the  wine  for  you  ;  save  you  the  trouble ;  besides, 
Dejean  daren't  hum  me  ;  know  every  bin  in  his  cellar! 
Pray,"  continued  the  major,  seating  himself  at  the  table, 
and  arranging  his  napkin  carefully  around  his  chin,  un- 
der the  "  surveillance"  of  his  ample  white  cravat,  after 

the  fashion  of  his  royal  highness  of ,  "  pray,  are  you 

aware  that  the  De  Cliffords  are  at  IMilan  V 

"  By  themselves  ]"  asked  Saville,  hastily, "  or — or — " 

"  Oh  no,  the  whole  party ;  the  Dow  looking  more  grim 
than  ever,  Lady  de  Clifford  more  beautiful  than  ever, 
and  Miss  Neville,  the  pretty  Fanny,  more  fascinating 
than  ever." 

"  Fanny,  Miss  Neville,  with  them  V  said  Saville,  and 
his  face  flushed  to  a  deep  crimson. 


22  CHETELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Why,  God  bless  me !"  said  the  major,  "  that  fire  is 
too  much  for  you :  change  places  with  me,  my  dear 
fellow ;  I'm  an  old  soldier ;  can  stand  fire,  you  know ; 
ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"  Is  not  Lord  de  Clifford  rather  an  odd  person  ?"  asked 
Mowbray,  intuitively  pitying  his  poor  friend  in  the  gauche 
fangs  of  the  major. 

"  Oh,  monstrous  odd  ;  he  had  been  puzzling  his  brain 
upon  a  calculating  machine  (having  his  amiable  mother, 
I  suppose,  for  a  model),  when,  lo  !  just  as  he  had  nearly 
completed  it,  out  comes  Mr.  Babbage's,  and  obliges  him 
to  relinquish  the  science  of  numbers  for  the  art  of  tor- 
menting, which  he  has  practised  upon  poor  Lady  de 
Chfford  ever  since.  And  when  a  man  forms  the  lauda- 
ble project  of  worrying  his  wife,  he  cannot  have  a  more 
able  coadjutor  than  a  mother-in-law  of  the  dowager's 
calibre  ;  do  you  think  he  can,  Mowbray  ]  ha  !  ha !  ha ! 
And  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  poor  dear  Fanny,  who  used 
to  make  all  sorts  of  fun  out  of  her  pompous  brother-in- 
law,  and  his  lugubrious  dam,  is  quite  changed  of  late. 
There  is  no  fun  now  left  at  all  in  her ;  they  say  she  had 
a  love  affair  last  year,  that  all  went  wrong,  and  that  she's 
never  been  right  since ;  but  I  don't  believe  it,  for  she 
looks  as  pretty  as  ever  ;  and  young  ladies  in  love  ought, 
according  to  the  most  approved  rules,  always  to  look  ill 
and  miserable.  And  then  poor  Lady  de  Clifford,  too ; 
they  say  she  is  perfectly  wretched ;  but  I  don't  believe 
that  either,  for  she  looks  so  happy,  and  always  seems  the 
gayest  person  in  a  room.  But  there  is  no  understand- 
ing women,  they  have  such  a  confounded  way  of  con- 
cealing their  feelings.  I  recollect  hearing  that  when  the 
report  came  that  I  was  killed  at  Waterloo,  Mrs.  Nonplus 
was  at  a  ball,  and  they  say  she  heard  the  heart-rending 
intelligence  with  as  much  composure  as  if  her  carriage 
had  been  announced.  Wonderful,  isn't  it  ?  Now,  'pon 
my  soul,  that's  true  ;  can  hardly  believe  it,  can  you  ^  But 
Mrs.  Nonplus  is  a  woman  of  an  uncommon  strong  mind !" 

Mowbray  laughed  outright,  and  then  exclaimed,  in  a 
mock  heroic  tone, 

"  Brutus,  unmoved,  heard  how  his  Portia  fell — 
Had  Jack's  wife  died,  he'd  have  behaved  as  well." 

"  Ah,  Brutus — yes,  I  understand — Roman  virtue,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.  But  Mrs.  N.  is  quite  Roman,  I 
assure  you — Roman  nose — very  fond  of  Roman  punch, 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  23 

and  mends  broken  china  with  Roman  cement,  which 
shows  she  has  it  in  her,  you  know  ;  but,  Lord  bless  me  ! 
this  hermitage  is  quite  sympathetic,  for  while  I  am 
growing  warm  about  my  wife,  it  is  becoming  equally 
so.     Better  ring  for  another  bottle,  my  dear  fellow." 

The  rosy  god  at  length  subdued  the  major  into  si- 
lence, and  with  the  assistance  of  two  waiters,  he  was 
conveyed  up  stairs  to  bed,  hiccoughing  out  peremptory 
orders  to  be  called  in  time  to  accompany  his  friends  to 
Ferney  in  the  morning. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven,"  said  Saville,  throwing  up  the 
window,  and  drawing  his  chair  to  it  as  soon  as  the  ma- 
jor had  been  removed,  "  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  were  like 
you,  Mowbray !" 

"  A  propos  de  quoi,  mon  cher  ?" 

"  Why,  a  propos  to  your  being  like  the  man  Prome- 
theus made,  and  having  no  relations,  at  least  none  that 
have  the  power  of  advising,  tormenting,  and  preventing 
you  on  all  occasions." 

"  And  so  I  am  to  be  envied,"  said  Mowbray,  laughing, 
"  for  being  '  lord  of  myself,  that  heritage  of  wo.'  I 
can  assure  j^ou  that  independent  isolation  is  by  no 
means  the  happy  state  you  be-fathered  and  be-uncled 
young  gentlemen  may  imagine  it.  I  often  wish  that  I 
had  a  miserly  father,  a  fidgety  mother,  or  even  an  old 
maiden  aunt,  who  doled  me  out  her  money  a  la  Shy- 
lock,  taking  at  least  a  pound  of  flesh  for  every  one  of 
gold,  and  mortgaging  my  time  and  patience  by  her  exi- 

fence  every  hour  in  the  day,  provided  I  had  but  any 
uman  being  to  care  Avhen  I  went  and  when  I  came. 
You  know  how  I  have  slaved  to  try  and  fall  in  love, 
but  in  vain ;  I  have  had  so  many  rivals  in  my  horses, 
houses,  carriages,  and  estates,  that  I  have  felt  jealous 
of  myself,  to  say  nothing  of  not  being  particularly  ad- 
dicted to  young  ladies  in  such  a  profound  state  of  mor- 
al and  intellectual  innocence,  tliat  the  former  renders 
them  quite  unable  to  form  a  preference  for  one  man 
above  another,  except  through  the  medium  of  a  rent- 
roll  or  the  red-book,  while  the  latter  leaves  them  per- 
fectly ignorant  of  the  marked  distinction  nature  has 
made  between  turnips  and  carrots  !" 

"  Yes,  but  on  the  other  hand,  how  delightful  when 
one  does  chance  to  meet  a  young  lady,  Mowbray,  who 
does  know  the  difference  between  carrots  and  turnips, 
and  who  would  venture  to  explore  the  perilous  sea  of 


24  cheveley;  or, 

marriage,  without  either  the  chart  of  the  red-book  or 
the  compass  of  a  rent-roll ;  to  have  an  uncle,  from 
whom  one  '  expects  everything'  and  hopes  nothing,  at 
one  side  objecting,  a  father  at  the  other  forbidding,  and 
a  whole  tribe  of  aunts  prophecying  and  preaching  you 
into  an  atrophy." 

"  In  short,  this  being  interpreted,  means  that  Mr. 
Harry  Saville,  a  young  gentleman  who  is  to  have  the 
reversion  of  jC10,000  a  year,  is  extremely  ill  used  by 
his  relations,  in  not  being  unmolestedly  allowed  to  mar- 
ry Miss  Fanny  Neville,  a  young  lady  with — the  rever- 
sion of  nothing." 

"  Well,  Mowbray,  they  are  at  Milan,  so  pray  wait  till 
you  see  her  before  you  laugh  at  me ;  not  that  I  ever 
expect  any  sympathy  from  such  an  adamantine  person- 
age as  you,  who,  beyond  a  Pigmalion  passion  for  a 
statue  or  a  flirtation  with  a  Domenichino,  know  nothing 
of  '  L'etoffe  de  la  nature  que  I'imagination  a  brode^.' " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mowbray,  laughing,  as  he  lit  his 
hand-candle,  "  I  shall  take  your  quotation  from  Voltaire 
as  a  hint  to  go  to  bed,  that  we  may  be  up  in  time  to- 
morrow to  see  Ferney  before  we  escape  from  Geneva 
and  Nonplus." 

The  next  morning  a  brilliant  sun  lighted  the  two 
friends  on  their  way  to  Ferney.  The  vexation  of  spirit 
occasioned  by  the  roughness  of  the  road,  had  an  ade- 
quate "  pendant"  in  the  vanity,  the  egregious,  the  small, 
the  paltry  vanity  that  meets  the  visiter  in  eveiy  turn  of 
that  far-famed  spot.  After  driving  through  the  very 
shabby  entrance,  you  find  yourself  in  a  small  hall,  where- 
in is  a  large  picture,  designed  by  Voltaire  himself,  and 
executed  by  some  wretched  Swiss  Dick  Tinto  of  that 
era.  In  the  foreground  stands  the  poet  brandishing  the 
Henriade,  which  he  is  presenting  to  Apollo,  who,  nev- 
ertheless, appears  to  look  on  it  with  much  the  same  ex- 
pression with  which  a  parish  overseer  rejects  a  petition 
for  an  additional  eighteen-pence  a  week.  In  the  back- 
ground is  the  Temple  of  Memory,  towards  which  Fame 
appears  posting  with  a  good  substantial  pair  of  wings, 
at  the  rate  of  seven  miles  an  hour.  The  Muses  and 
Graces  (who  are  evidently  incog.)  surround  Voltaire, 
and  bear  off  his  bust  to  the  Temple  of  Memory,  while 
his  own  thoughts,  viz.,  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  the 
Henriade,  are  standing  astonished  at  his  wonderful  tal- 
ents.   The  authors  who  wrote  against  him  are  falling 


I 


THE    MAN    OP   HONOUR.  2o 

into  the  infernal  regions,  while  Envy  and  her  progeny 
are  expiring  at  his  feet ;  and,  in  order  that  nothing  may 
be  lost,  Galas  and  his  family  are  also  dragged  into  this 
modest  tableau.  Leaving  this  focus  of  egotism  and  van- 
ity, the  rest  of  the  house  presents  in  detail  these  two 
great  elements  of  its  quondam  owner;  the  drawing- 
room  being  ornamented  with  a  bust  of  Voltaire  ;  in  his 
bedroom  are  portraits  of  his  friends,  Frederic  the  Great 
of  Prussia,  Le  Kain,  Catharine  the  Second  of  Russia, 
Madame  de  Chastelet ;  then  again  comes  a  portrait  of 
Voltaire,  flanked  by  one  of  Milton  and  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton. There  is  also  the  vase  that  contained  his  heart,  be- 
fore its  removal  to  Paris,  upon  which  is  an  inscription 
that  could  not  have  been  more  modest  had  he  written  it 
himself: 

"  Mon  esprit  est  par  tout,  et  mon  cceur  est  ici." 

The  whole  house  reminds  one  of  the  anecdote  of  his 
sendmg  a  bunch  of  violets  to  Madame  de  Chastelet, 
when  she  expected  at  least  an  "  aigrette"  of  diamonds. 
How  the  truth  of  her  answer  strikes  one  :  "  Mon  ami  la- 
issez  ces  niaiseries  tu  n'etiez  pas  fait  pour  fetre  naturel ; 
tu  es  audessus  de  (jela !"  At  every  turn  you  are  present- 
ed with  copies  of  verses  in  praise  of  Voltaire,  which  you 
may  buy  for  five  franks  ;  and  the  old  gardener,  who 
still  remembers  him,  while  he  presents  you  Avith  one  of 
the  most  elaborate  of  these  eulogiums,  at  the  same  time 
informs  you  that  he  had  the  most  dreadful  temper  that 
ever  was,  and  that  they  were  all  terribly  afraid  of  him. 
Certainly,  the  French  have  more  sentiment  and  less 
feeling  than  any  people  in  the  world :  had  TuUia  been 
a  French  woman,  she  might  equally  have  driven  over 
the  dead  body  of  her  father;  but,  then,  what  an  elegy 
she  would  have  written  upon  the  event !  and  with  what 
tears  would  she  have  read  it  out  to  a  sympathizing  and 
admiring  audience ! 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  get  into  the  carriage,  the 
aforesaid  old  gardener  inquired  if  they  had  seen  Vol- 
taire's nightcap. 

"  Oui,  oui,"  said  Mowbray,  laughing ;  "  j'ai  tout  vn." 

"  J'ai  vu  le  soleil  et  la  lone 

Qui  faisoient  des  discours  en  I'air, 
J'ai  vu  le  terrible  Neptune 
Sortir  tout  frise  de  !a  mer  !" 
Vol.  I.— C 


26  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Diable  !  mais  monsieur  a  beaucoup  vu,"  said  the  old 
man,  his  hair  standing  on  end  as  he  bowed  them  into 
the  carriage. 

From  Ferney  they  proceeded  to  Coppet.     Poor  Ma- 
dame de  Stael  !  in  a  fit  of  monomania  she  talks  of  the 
"moral  air  of  England!"  but  there  really  is  a  moral  at- 
mosphere and  well-regulated  look  about  Coppet,  a^t  least 
compared  to  Ferney.     At  all  events,  it  has  a  "  soignee" 
English   appearance,  which   always. gives  one  a  good 
opinion  of  the  owner  of  a  Continental  house,  when  one 
has  been  surfeited  with  dirt,  disorder,  and  the  fine  arts. 
After  driving  through  a  long,  straight,  ugly  gravel-walk 
road,  the  nice  old  house,  with  its  four  round,  quaint- 
looking  towers,  grouped  like  oldfashioued  sentry-boxes, 
appears  ;  the  hall  is  not  particularly  good,  but  the  stair- 
case is  broad  and  handsome ;  opposite  the  hall-door  is 
the  librarj'',  a  nice  long  room  with  pillars,  and  oldfash- 
ioued wire  bookcases  lined  with  green  silk.     The  win- 
dows look  out  upon  a  pretty  garden,  bounded  by  the 
lake  :  at  the  upper  end  of  the  library  is  a  large  tapestried 
bedchanlber,  formerly  occupied  by  Madame  Recamier. 
At  the  lower,  a  door  opening  into  the  "  salle  a  manger  ;" 
over  the  chimney-piece  in  the  library  is  a  full-length 
portrait  of  Neckar,  on  the  right  of  which  is  another  of 
Madame  Neckar,  and  on  the  left  one  of  William  Schle- 
gel;    it  is   a  heavy,  stupid   face.     There  is  withal  an 
egare  look  about  it,  just  the  sort  of  astonishment  his 
features  must  have  expressed  when  he  fouiul  that  he 
had  inspired  love  in  such  a  woman  as  Madame  de  Stael ; 
while  the  look  of  thought  the  painter  has  endeavoured 
to  knead  into  his  face  only  makes  him  appear  to  be  in 
the  act  of  racking  his  brains  for  misstatements  for  her 
"  Germany."     Up  stairs,  the  rooms  are  large  and  good, 
and  accurately  clean,  with  such  a  decided  air  of  Eng- 
lish comfort  about  them,  that  one  wonders  how  it  was 
ever  got  through  "  the  customs.''''     Next  to  Madame  de 
Stael's  bedroom  is  the  dressing-room  she  used  to  write 
in  of  a  morning ;  the  chair,  the  table,  the  inkstand,  just 
as  she  left  it;  the  windows  looking  out  upon  the  lake, 
and  Clarens,  the  beautiful  Clarens  in  the  distance! 

"  Ah,"  said  Saville,  sitting  down  in  the  chair  and  throw- 
ing open  the  window,  "  it  is  evidently  here  that  she  must 
have  first  dreamed  '  Corinne,'  however  she  may  have 
realized  it  in  Italy." 

"  Yes,"  laughed   Mo\Kbray,  "  and  William  Schlegel 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  27 

(vide  the  picture)  must  liave  been  the  original  of  that 
leaden  lover,  Lord  Nelville." 

"  Oh,  you  sacrilegious  dog !  to  speak  so  profanely  of 
any  of  the  personages  mentioned  in  that  rubric  of  love." 

"  '  Peccavi,'  "  said  Mowbray  ;  "  but  recollect,  that 
though  i/ou  are  no  doubt  by  this  time  fit  for  canoniza- 
tion, /  am  not  yet  even  a  convert  to  the  true  faith  ;  but 
as  you  seem  inclined  to  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  in 
that  chair,  dreaming  of  your  Corinne,  or  perhaps  in  the 
hope  of  becoming  inspired,  I  must  leave  you,  as  I  want 
to  see  the  rest  of  the  house." 

Saville  followed  slowly  on  ;  in  the  drawing-room  was 
Gerard's  picture  of  Madame  de  Stael ;  the  turban  and 
attitude  evidently  after  the  manner  of  Doinenichino's 
Sibyl  in  the  Capitol,  but  oh !  what  a  difference  in  the 
face !  though  the  eyes  are  certainly  remarkably  fine, 
and  there  is  as  much  beauty  in  the  countenance  as  ex- 
pression can  give  when  it  plays  the  rebel,  and  sets  fea- 
tures totally  at  defiance. 

"  I  could  have  been  in  love  with  that  Avoman,  too," 
said  Mowbray,  in  answer  to  his  own  thoughts,  as  he 
looked  with  folded  arms  earnestly  at  the  picture. 
"  What  splendid  eyes !  and  what  exquisitely  beautiful 
arms !  I  always  admired  beautiful  arms — one  sees  them 
so  seldom." 

"This  could  not  be  said  of  hers,"  said  Saville,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  for,  as  tradition  hath  it,  she  displayed  them  on  all 
occasions;  and  even  with  posterity  she  appears  deter- 
mined (forgive  the  pun)  to  carry  it  '  vi  et  armis ;'  but 
that  eternal  j-alm-branch  in  her  hand,  I  wonder  why  she 
should  retain  tliat,  even  in  her  picture." 

"  Because,  in  her  generation,  she  yielded  the  palm  to 
none  ;  and  now,  Master  Harry,  you  have  pun  for  pun. 
But  what  a  sweet,  gentle,  feminine  picture  that  is  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Broglie !  the  word  lovely  seems  made 
on  purpose  to  be  applied  to  it." 

"  It  is  indeed  very  lovelj',"  said  Saville,  "  and  I  dare 
say  she  was  the  original  of  Lucille  ;  there  is  something 
Very  English  in  the  whole  contour." 

"  Now,  as  you  love  me,  Hal,  never  undertake  to  praise 
me,  if  you  laud  after  that  fashion.  English-looking! 
that  is  an  epithet  which  never  can  be  eulogistic,  except 
as  appUed  to  boards,  beds,  beefsteaks,  and  bottled  por- 
ter ;  but  to  apply  it  to  the  gentler  sex !  Harry,  Harry, 
it  is  the  last,  the  very  last  insult  which  injury  should 


28  CHEVELEY  ;     OR, 

provoke  a  man  to  offer  to  a  woman.  What  think  you 
they  keep  French  abigails  for,  employ  French  milhners, 
adopt  French  morals,  and  endure  as  many  privations 
and  abominations  in  Continental  tours,  as  a  retreating 
army  in  an  Egyptian  campaign,  if  it  is  to  be  called  Eng- 
lish-looking at  last !     '  Go  to  and  mend  thy  manners.' " 

On  each  side  of  the  mantelpiece  were  miniatures,  into 
one  of  which  poor  Monsieur  Rocard  had  slunk  ;  into  the 
other  Monsieur  Auguste,  with  a  great  deal  of  French 
beauty  about  him  (that  is  to  say,  "  co'iffee  a  la  coup  de 
vent"),  and  that  sort  of  half  Agamemnon,  half  Antinous 
look,  which  all  the  Monsieur  Augustes  possess,  that 
have  ever  been  or  that  ever  will  be  transmitted  to  pos- 
terity, through  the  medium  of  ivory  or  canvass.  Out 
of  the  drawing-room  is  a  very  nice,  comfortable  billiard- 
room,  with  busts  round  it ;  and  though  the  house  had  not 
been  inhabited  for  some  time,  it  had  a  peculiarly  inhab- 
ited look. 

"Coppet!"  said  Mowbray,  as  they  descended  the 
stairs,  "  thy  mistress  is  no  more  ;  then  why  dost  thou 
seem  so  cheerful,  since  thou  '  ne'er  will  look  upon  her 
like  again  ■?' " 

That  night  the  friends  slept  at  Mellerie ;  to  their 
shame  be  it  confessed,  they  thought  not  once  of  Jean 
Jacques,  or  even  of  his  tertian  ague  Julie,  and  St.  Preux, 
till  the  hostess  announced  that  no  trout  could  be  got  for 
supper. 

"  '  Comment  il  n'y  a  pas  de  truite  !  a  Mellerie  V  " 
cried  Saville ;  and  then,  slapping  his  forehead  like  a  de- 
spairing lover,  exclaimed, " '  L'eau  est  profonde.  La  Roch 
est  escarpee,  et  je  suis  au  desespoir;  parcequ'il  n'y  a 
pas  de  truite  pour  le  souper  !  mais  comme  tous  mes  es- 
perances  sont  de  truites  pour  aujourd'hui,  je  les  aurez 
pour  le  dejeuner  demain.'  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Mowbray,  laughing  at  this  rhapsody  . 
and  still  more  at  the  landlady's  astounded  face,  and  An- 
dare's  horrified  one,  at  this  profane  quotation  from  the 
Heloise — "  I  think  you  had  better  go  to  bed,  or  else  you 
will  pun  yourself  into  a  fever." 

"  Or  sup  full  of  horrors  if  I  remain,"  said  Saville, 
as  he  glanced  at  the  first  "  entree,"  a  nondescript-look- 
ing bird,  very  like  a  roasted  gondola  ingulfed  in  a  sea 
of  "  beur  noir." 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  29 


CHAPTER  III. 

»'  A  qui  cette  belle  malson  et  ces  vastes 
Champs?  demandait  le  roi  en  bassant, 
Le  store  de  la  voiture  ?" 

"  A  motiseigneur  le  Marquis  de  Carabas, 
Sire  repondit  les  moissonniers,  coinme  le 
Chat  bottee  leurs  avoit  commander 
De  dire  " 

Histoire  Cilibre  du  Chat  Bottie. 

"  I  won't  describe  ;  description  is  my  forte, 

But  every  fool  describes  in  these  bright  days 
His  wonderous  journey  to  some  foreign  court, 

And  spawns  his  quartos,  and  demands  your  praise. 
Death  to  his  publisher,  to  him  'tis  sport; 

While  Nature,  tortured  twenty  thousand  ways, 
Resigns  herself  with  exemplary  patience 

To  guide-books,  rhymes,  tours,  sketches,  illustrations." 

Lord  Byron. 

Every  one  vviio  has  passed  the  Simplon  (and  who  is 
there  that  has  not?)  knows  as  well  as  1  can  tell  them, 
that,  let  them  turn  to  which  side  they  will  on  the  sunny 
margin  of  that  terrestrial  paradise,  the  Lago  Maggiore, 
and  inquire  who  is  the  happy  owner  of  some  fairy  ca- 
sino, from  Isola  Madre  and  Isola  Bella  onward,  will 
be  sure  to  receive  the  eternal  answer  that  it  belongs  to 
Prince  Borromeo,  who  is  most  categorically  the  Mar- 
quis de  Carabas  of  "  that  ilk."  How  gloriously,  how 
primevally  beautiful,  is  just  this  one  favoured  spot !  how 
"  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable"  the  plaiii-s  of  Lorabardy 
beyond !  and  how  infernal  look  the  red  lights,  that  glare 
out  the  way,  previous  to  reaching  the  I'erry  at  Cesto 
Calendo,  where  the  poor  blind  fiddler,  with  his  songs  of 
"  Bella  Italia"  and  "  La  Placida  Campagna,"  seems, 
Orpheus-like,  to  move  the  sticks  and  stones  of  the 
heavily-laden  ferry,  and  make  the  passage  over  less 
miserable  than  it  otherwise  would  be  ! 

But,  in  Italy,  let  no  one  fear  alack  of  discomfort; 
no,  no !  at  every  "  poste"  they  will  be  sure  of  the  eter- 
nal dogana,  the  large,  dirty,  miserable  inn,  and  the 
pitched  battle  between  the  courier  and  the  maestro 
della  posta,  about  the  "  tariffe  :"  add  to  this,  the  having 
C  8 


30  CHEVELEY  )    OR, 

nothing  to  eat,  while  one's  self  is  eaten  alive,  will  al- 
ways ensure  to  an  Englishman  his  national  privilege  of 
grumbling,  which,  being  his  greatest  luxury,  is  also, 
luckily,  the  only  one  that  is  not  "  contrabandista,"  and 
therefore  gets  through  the  custom-house  duty  free. 

The  day  that  Saville  and  Mowbray  reached  Milan 
was  one  of  those  bright,  balmy,  thoroughly  Italian  days, 
that  make  one  feel  very  much  as  one  fancies  a  chrysa- 
lis must  feel  when  it  is  turning  into  a  butterfly,  and  ex- 
panding into  a  new  and  happier  existence ;  but  while 
Mowbray  was  looking  to  tlie  right  and  to  the  left  as 
they  passed  the  Corso,  and  joyfully  recognising  old  ac- 
quaintances in  every  tree,  Saville  was  as  eagerly  look- 
ing into  every  carriage,  and  thinking  every  moment  an 
hour  till  they  alighted  at  the  Albergo  Reale.  Verily, 
his  toilette  was  not  of  the  longest,  and  yet  the  most 
fastidious  eye  could  not  have  detected  any  deficiency  in 
it  when,  half  an  hour  after  their  arrival,  he  might  have 
been  seen  striding  along  "  a  pas  de  giant"  towards  the 
palazza :  but,  alas !  "  the  course  of  true  love  never 
did,"  nor  ever  will,  "  run  smooth."  To  his  inquiry  of 
whether  Lord  de  Clifford  was  at  home,  the  negative  reply 
he  received  did  not  send  an  icebolt  to  his  heart ;  but  when 
the  same  answer  was  returned  about  Lady  de  Chiford 
and  her  sister,  and,  finally,  when  he  was  informed  that 
they  were  gone  to  Lodi,  were  not  expected  back  till 
dinner-time,  and  that  tliey  all  dined  that  day  at  the 
Contessa  A.'s,  poor  Saville  looked  as  if,  instead  of  this 
simple  and  very  natural  piece  of  intelligence,  the  porter 
had  informed  him  that  a  price  was  set  upon  his  head, 
and  in  an  hour  from  thence  it  would  be  separated  from 
his  body. 

Slowly  and  languidly  he  retraced  his  steps  to  the  ho- 
tel ;  and  after  throv/ing  open  every  window  in  the 
room,  ringing  the  bell,  till  he  broke  it,  for  his  man  Gif- 
ford,  and  being  extremely  angry  at  hearing  he  was  out, 
though,  on  leaving  home,  he  himself  had  told  him  he 
might  go  out,  as  he  should  not  want  him  till  dinner,  he 
resorted  to  that  usual  "  pis  aller"  of  disappointed  lovers, 
pacing  to  and  fro,  as  if  in  the  hope  of  walking  away 
from  himself.  He  was  still  pursuing  this  unselfish  but 
somewhat  impracticable  journey,  when  Mowbray  re- 
turned to  dinner. 

"What,  noble  knight  of  LaMancha!"  said  the  latter, 
smiling, "  has  thy  dnlcinea  persisted  in  stringing  pearls, 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  31 

and  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  thy  suit,  that  thou  thus  wear- 
est  the  blanched  livery  of  wo  V 

"Pshaw!"  muttered  Saville,  peevishly  turning  upon 
his  heel.  "  Really,  Mowbray,  your  persiflage  is  un- 
bearable ;  it  is  always  so  deusedly  ill-timed." 

"  Not  so  this  '  puree  a  la  bisque,' "  said  Mowbray,  as 
the  soup  made  its  appearance ;  "  for  I  never  was  more 
hungry  in  my  life." 

"  You're  always  hungry,"  retorted  Saville  :  "  I  thought 
we  were  not  to  dine  till  seven  V 

*'  And  it  is  now  half  past,"  said  Mowbray,  holding  up 
his  watch. 

They  sat  down  to  table  in  silence.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  Saville  found  the  soup  too  salt  and  too  thin ; 
in  slvort,  that  everything  that  fell  to  his  share  was  pecu- 
liarly and  unpardonably  bad  ;  and  that  he  more  than  once 
expressed  his  surprise  how  Mowbray  could  drink  glass 
after  glass  of  that  infernal  stuff,  which  was  much  more 
like  vinegar  and  water  than  white  Hermitage.  Heaven 
only  knows  when  his  animadversions  would  have  ceased, 
had  not  a  billet  been  presented  to  him  by  one  of  the 
waiters,  who  added, 

"  Monsieur  le  valet  de  chambre  de  Madame  la  Com- 
tesse  attende  votre  reponse." 

The  note  was  from  Madame  de  A ,  begging  Saville 

and  his  friend  to  come  to  her  box  at  La  Scala  that  even- 
ing, where  they  would  meet  Lord  and  Lady  de  Clifford 
and  Miss  Neville ;  the  comtesse  politely  adding,  that 
she  longed  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  so  distinguished 
a  person  as  Mr.  Mowbray. 

Saville,  in  replying  to  this  simple  invitation,  had  to 
write  four  different  notes  before  he  could  return  a  suit- 
able affirmative  ;  for  he  had  put  so  many  "  cheres"  and 
so  much  gratitude  in  the  first  four,  that  even  he  perceived 
the  absurdity  of  them ;  and  at  length,  despairing  of  achiev- 
ing his  task  creditably,  he  pushed  the  inkstand  over  to 
Mowbray,  saying,  with  an  imploring  voice, "  My  dear  fel- 
low, do  just  write  a  proper  answer,  will  you  ^" 

"  To  what  1  and  to  whom  ]"  inquired  Mowbray. 

"  Oh,  ah — true  ;  I  forgot,"  said  Saville.  "  Madame  de 
A has  written  to  ask  us  to  go  to  La  Scala  this  even- 
ing, and  she  wants  to  know  you ;  so  do  just  say,  as  if  I 
said  it  for  you,  how  '  charmee'  you  will  be  '  de  faire  la 
connaissance  d'une  personne  aussi  charmante,  et  aussi 

aimable  que  Madame  de  A ,'  and  that  we  will  obey 

her  summons.'* 


32  CHEVELEY  ;    OR,       . 

Mowbray  took  the  pen  and  did  as  he  was  desired.  No 
sooner  was  the  note  despatched,  than,  as  if  by  the  wand 
of  a  magician,  everything  on  tlie  table  seemed  to  be 
changed  from  execrable  to  excellent.  Even  the  wine, 
before  condemned  as  vinegar  and  water,  was  now  pro- 
nounced to  be  far  better  than  was  generally  to  be  met 
with  at  hotels;  and  Gifford,  in  placing  a  timbal  of  mac- 
caroni  before  his  master,  apologized  humbly  and  fear- 
fully for  its  not  being  "  au  ju,"  as  he  assured  him  he  had 
ordered  it. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  the  all-accommodating  Sa- 
ville;  "  1  tliink  I  like  it  better  'en  timbal.'" 

Mowbray  burst  out  laughing.  "  What  are  you  laugh- 
ing at?"  asked  Saville,  good-humouredly. 

"  Why,"  said  Mowbray,  "  at  the  Sybarite  who  ten 
minutes  ago  was  writhing  at  his  crumpled  rose-leaf, 
being,  by  the  few  niagical  words  contained  in  this  billet, 
converted  into  the  stoic,  whom  it  is  not  in  the  power 
of  adverse  fate  to  annoy." 

The  only  point  upon  which  Saville  now  appeared  to 
be  at  all  querulously  inclined,  was  upon  Mowbray  not 
evincing  equal  impatience  with  himself  to  be  at  the  op- 
era. At  length  half  past  nine  came,  and  Saville  de- 
clared it  must  be  near  eleven,  and  he  would  not  wait  a 
moment  longer.     When  they  arrived  at  La  Scala,  they 

found  Madame  de  A 's  box  empty ;  and  as  neither 

she  nor  her  party  came  till  full  an  hour  afterward,  they 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  (and  trying  not  to  hear) 
"  II  Barbiere"  cruelly  shorn  of  all  its  graces  ;  for  it  was 
since  the  reign  of  La  divina  Malibran  at  Milan,  when 
thin  audiences  are  condemned  to  fat  voiceless  Romeos, 
tame  Ahnavivas,  and  ungraceful  Rosinas. 

"  1  am  really  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Saville,  for 
procuring  me  such  a  treat,"  said  Mowbray. 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  returned  his  companion  ;  "she — 
I  mean  they,  will  be  here  presently."  As  he  spoke,  the 
door  opened,  and  two  of  Madame  de  A.'s  servants  en- 
tered, and  snuffing  the  candhes,  and  arranging  the  cush- 
ions and  pillows  on  the  sofa,  announced  that  the  con- 
tessa  and  her  party  were  coining.  A  few  minutes  after, 
Madame  de  A.,  Lady  de  Clifford,  and  her  sister,  made 
their  appearance.  Madame  de  A.  was  a  middle-sized 
blonde,  rather  "  embonpoint,"  and  a  very  pretty  woman, 
at  that  time  of  life  when  a  lady  never  talks  of  other 
people's   ages  or  her  own,  and  never  uses  the  word 


THE   MAN    OF    HONOUR.  33 

"passee,"  either  relatively  or  comparatively,  joined  to 
the  most  perfect  manners.  She  had  that  great  charm 
which  Italian  women  so  rarely,  so  very  rarely  possess 
— "  a  most  sweet  voice."  There  was  in  her  manner 
a  kindness  and  cordiality,  which,  when  united  with  per- 
fect good-breeding,  enhances  the  effect  of  the  latter  just 
as  much  as  a  warm  background  throw's  out  and  gives  a 
tone  to  the  most  finished  picture. 

Her  greetings  with  Saville  over,  she  gracefully  and 
flatteringly  made  the  acquaintance  of  his  friend,  who, 
on  Saville's  account,  had  been  narrowly  scrutinizing 
Miss  Neville,  and  few  faces  could  better  bear  minute 
investigation.  Above  the  middle  size,  she  had  all  the 
dignity  of  height  without  its  awkwardness ;  her  fea- 
tures were  small  and  beautifully  chiselled  ;  her  eyes  of 
tlie  darkest  hazel ;  her  head  and  throat  were  statue-like, 
and  her  hair  of  that  rich  satiny,  nameless  browni,  like 
a  hazelnut.  There  was  a  playful  expression  lurking  in 
her  deep  eyes,  and  at  the  corners  of  her  saucy,  pouting 
mouth,  which  her  friends  would  have  called  "  laughter- 
loving,"  and  her  enemies  satirical;  her  conversation 
would  have  confirmed  both  friends  and  enemies  in  their 
opinion ;  and  her  spirits  were  so  "  brilliant  and  light," 
that  they  might  have  been  oppressive  to  others  if  her 
manner  had  not  been  the  gentlest,  and  her  voice  the 
softest  that  ever  was.  So  that,  with  all  her  playful- 
ness, she  gave  one  the  idea  of  a  gazelle  chained  within 
bounds  by  eider-down  fetters ;  and  her  merry  laugh, 
that  rang  out  like  a  peal  of  silver  bells,  did  not  destroy 
the  illusion.  As  she  shook  hands  with  Saville,  Mow- 
bray watched  the  heightened  colour  of  her  cheek,  the 
tears  that  filled  her  eyes,  and  the  happy  agitation  of  her 
manner,  and  almost  envied  him  his  bondage,  as  much 
as  Saville  had  envied  him  his  liberty  at  Geneva;  nor 
was  this  feeling  lessened,  when,  on  Saville's  presenting 
him  to  Fanny,  she  intuitively  put  out  her  hand  to  him, 
and  then  looked  so  provokingly  beautiful  as  she  stam- 
mered out  an  apology  about  Mr.  Saville  being  such  an 
old  friend  of  hers,  that  she  fancied  his  friends  must  also 
be  hers. 

"  If  Miss  Neville  \vill  but  continue  to  think  so,"  said 
Mowbray,  "much  as  I  have  always  owed  to  Saville's 
friendship,  I  shall  now  be  more  his  debtor  than  ever." 

Among  Fanny  Neville's  numerous  perfections  was 
that  of  never  giggling  herself  out  of  a  compliment.    So 


34  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

that,  in  the  present  instance,  she  neither  simpered  nor 

Washed,  but  said  playfully  to  Mov/bray, 

"  Well,  then,  Mr.  Mowbra}^  you  must  let  me  begin 
our  friendship  by  laying  you  under  an  obligation  to  me, 
that  of  introducing  you  to  my  sister.  Lady  de  Clif- 
ford, Mr.  Mowbray." 

"I  see,"  said  Mowbray,  bowing,  "you  have  mali- 
ciously determined  that  the  obligation  shall  be  eternal." 

Lady  de  Clifford  was  taller  than  her  sister ;  her  beau- 
ty was  altogether  of  a  different  kind  :  her  head,  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  placed  upon  her  shoulders,  was 
quite  as  classical  as  Fanny's :  but  then  the  contour  was 
more  that  of  Juno  than  of  Psyche.  Her  features,  too, 
were  small,  yet  perfect ;  a  little,  a  very  little  less  Greek 
than  her  sister's,  but  more  piquant,  with  a  nose  that  I 
can  only  describe  by  calling  it  epigrammatic ;  it  could 
not  have  belonged  to  a  fool,  or  even  to  a  dull  person. 
There  was  something  queenlike  about  her,  but  then  it 
was  her  air  only ;  for  though  dazzling  w^as  the  word 
every  one  felt  inclined  to  apply  to  her  appearance,  yet 
she  had  quite  as  much  prettiuess  as  beauty ;  that  is,  she 
had  all  the  feminine  delicacy  and  fascination  of  a  mere- 
ly pretty  woman,  with  all  the  dignity  and  splendour  of 
a  perfectly  beautiful  one.  Li  short,  prettiuess  might  be 
aid  to  be  the  detail  of  her  features,  and  beauty  their 
effect.  Her  eyes  were  "  darkly,  deeply,  beautifully 
blue,"  and  the  long  dark  fringes  that  shadowed  them 
gave  a  Murillo-like  softness  to  her  cheek  when  she 
looked  dov/n ;  her  complexion  would  have  been  too 
brilliant  had  it  not  changed  almost  as  often  as  the  rose 
clouds  in  an  Italian  sky;  for  it  varied  as  ihougli  each 
passing  thought  reflected  its  shadow  upon  her  face  ;  her 
mouth  and  teeth  would  have  baffled  the  imagination  of 
a  painter  or  the  description  of  a  poet ;  and  her  smile 
was  bright, 

"  Like  any  fair  lake  that  the  breeze  is  upon. 
When  it  breaks  into  dimples  and  laughs  in  the  sun.'" 

To  the  greatest  strength  of  character  she  united  the 
mildest  disposition,  and  withal  was  what  her  sex  so 
rarely  are,  "  though  witty,  wise."  Few  women  could 
boast  her  solid  and  almost  universal  information,  yet 
was  there  nothing  of  the  "  precieuse"  about  her ;  no 
attempt  at  display,  no  contempt  for  the  ignorance  of 
others ;  in  short,  good  sense  did  for  her  manners  what 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  35 

religion  did  for  her  character — blended,  purified,  and  har- 
monized each  separate  or  opposing  qualit}',  without  the 
mainsprings  ever  ruggedly  or  obtrusively  appearing  to 
taunt  others  with  their  lack  of  them.  Mowbray  had 
been  so  preoccupied  with  Fanny,  that  he  had  not  at 
first  remarked  Lady  de  Clifford  ;  but,  now  that  his  at- 
tention was  especially  called  to  her,  he  felt  himself 
gazing  at  her  almost  rudely,  for  never  before  had  he 
seen  anything  that  he  thought  so  wondrouslj'^  beautiful ; 
and  a  minute  or  two  elapsed  in  taking  the  chair  Madame 
de  A.  otferec!  Iiiin  bctw(>en  Lady  de  Clifford  and  her- 
self, before  lie  recollected  liiinself  sufficiently  to  speak 
to  either  of  them.  At  length,  pitying  Faimy  and  Sa- 
ville,  who  by  no  means  appeared  to  enjoy  the  dead 
silence  tbat  had  ensued,  lie  commenced  playing  tiie 
agreeable  (which  none  could  do  more  successfully)  to 
his  two  fair  companions.  He  listened  to  Madame  de 
A.,  bnt  he  was  perfectly  "  entraine"  by  everything  Lady 
de  Clifford  said  ;  every  word  appeared  to  him  epigram- 
matic ;  and  yet,  had  he  been  asked  to  instance  a  single 
good  thing  she  said,  he  could  not  have  done  it.  But" 
certain  it  is,  that  some  persons  have  the  art  of  giving 
to  the  merest  commonplaces  an  interest  and  a  novelty 
of  expression,  that  others  might  despair  of  imparting 
to  tiie  most  original  ideas  ;  and  this  art  she  possessed 
in  no  ordinary  degree.  It  is  astonishing  how  the  wish 
to  please  ensures  success ;  about  the  only  wish,  alas ! 
that  does  ensure  its  own  fulfilment,  and  therefore  I  mar- 
vel that  it  is  not  a  more  universal  one.  This  wish,  in 
the  present  instance,  was  Mowbray's,  and  its  success 
was  proportionate  to  its  sincerity  :  he  even  suddenly 
remembered  that  he  had  once  had  a  great  friendship 
for  a  person  wliose  existence  he  had  for  some  time 
most  unaccountably  forgotten — a  stupid  young  man,  a 
Mr.  Pierpoint,  who  had  been  a  brother  p-,ipcr-spoiler 
with  him  some  seven  j^ears  ago,  at  the  embassj^  at  Vi- 
enna, a  cousin  of  Lady  de  Clifford's.  The  virtues,  tal- 
ents, and  amiable  qualities  of  this  young  gentleman, 
he  now  began  to  recapitulate,  or,  rather,  to  manufac- 
ture, to  his  fair  cousin. 

"  Poor  George  !"  said  Lady  de  Clifford,  smiling,  "  I 
am  sure  he  never  had  so  warm  an  admirer  before.  How 
grateful  he  ought  to  he  to  you,  Mr.  Mowbray." 

Mowbray,  who  felt  conscious  that  George  Pierpoint 
in  reality  possessed  but  the  one  merit  he  had  just  dis- 


36  CHEVELEY  ;  OR, 

covered,  namely,  that  of  being  cousin  to  Lady  de  Clif- 
ford, felt  a  slight  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  "  et  pour  se 
tirer  d'affaire,''  thought  he  had  better  continue  the  cat- 
alogue of  their  mutual  friends  ;  and  therefore  mention- 
ed another  diplomatic  effigy,  Mr.  Grimstone,  a  brother 
of  Lord  de  Clifford's. 

Lady  de  Clifford  did  more  than  smile  at  Mowbray's 
anecdotes  of  him  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  their  mirth  the 
door  opened,  and  the  Comte  de  A.  and  Lord  de  Clifforct 
entered.  There  is  no  need  of  describing  the  poor 
comte  ;  indeed,  it  would  be  no  easy  task,  as  he  amount- 
ed to  what  all  Italian  and  French  husbands  do — a  mere 
cipher.  Lord  de  Clifford  was  a  perpendicular,  stately 
personage,  aspiring  towards  seven  feet :  he  gave  one 
the  idea  of  never  even  in  sleep  having  been  guilty  of 
an  easy  position :  the  vulgar  term  of  "  he  looks  as  if 
he  had  swallowed  a  poker,"  was  completely  exempli- 
fied in  his  appearance.  He  had  straight,  stifT,  and  ob- 
stinate (very  obstinate)  brown  hair,  A^ery  small,  light 
gray  eyes ;  a  nose  so  aquiline,  that  if  it  had  appeared 
on  paper,  instead  of  on  a  human  face,  it  would  have  been 
pronounced  a  caricature  ;  his  upper  lip  was  straight, 
and  of  that  inordinate  length  which  may  be  taken  as 
the  affidavit  of  the  face  to  the  obstinacy  of  the  owner's 
character.  It  is,  after  this,  perhaps,  unnecessary  to  add 
that  he  always  wore  a  blue  coat  and  gilt  buttons  of  aji 
evening,  with  a  huge  and  very  white  stiff  cravat,  that 
looked  cut  out  of  stone;  after  the  Tam  O'Shanter  order 
of  sculpture. 

Nature  seemed  to  have  given  him  a  sort  of  rag-bag  of 
a  mind,  made  up  of  the  strangest*  and  most  incongruous 
odds  and  ends  possible,  with  a  clumsy  kind  of  arrogance 
of  all-work  to  arrange  it,  that  was  continually  adding 
to  its  confusion ;  his  information,  such  as  it  was  (though 
he  aimed  at  the  universal),  might  be  compared  to  the 
"  Penny  Cyclopaedia"  printed  upside  down ;  and  the 
curious  and  gigantic  pomposity  with  which  he  dealt  out 
the  smallest  and  most  commonplace  fact,  reminded  one 
of  an  elephant,  with  mighty  effort,  bowing  out  its  trunk  to 
pick  up  a  pin's  head  or  a  piece  of  thread.  Among  his 
mass  of  information,  geology,  of  course,  had  not  been 
neglected ;  and  having  heard  at  school  or  elsewhere 
that,  did  the  world  lose  but  the  smallest  atom  of  its 
gravity,  it  would  be  at  an  end,  he  always  seemed  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  he  was  the  important  atom 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  37 

on  which  its  existence  depended  ;  and  also  was  of  opin- 
ion that  so  great  a  man  should  be  governed  by  the  same 
principles  as  the  universe,  and  therefore  took  care  never 
to  lose  an  atom  of  his  own  gravity ;  for  which  reason, 
strange  to  say,  he  was  never  known  to  catch  the  infec- 
tion when  others  were  laughing  at  him.     In  politics  he 
was  an  ultra-Liberal  (it  gives  more  scope  for  declama- 
tion) ;  in  private  life  (as  is  the  general  pendant  to  public 
'  liberality)  he  was  a  tyrannical  autocrat,  a  Caligula  in 
his  clemency,  and  a  Draco  in  his  displeasure;  what- 
ever appertained  to  him  was  always  the  best  and  most 
faultless  in  the  world  ;  all,  excepting  his  wife  ;  she  was 
not  of  his  own  immediate  stock;  merely  a  graft,  which 
accounted  for  all  her  faults  ;  that,  among  the  rest,  of  his 
never  being  able  (incessantly  as  he  injpresscd  it  on  her) 
to  get  her  to  feel  and  appreciate   her  wonderful  good 
fortune  in  being  wedded  to  him,  which  was  the  more 
extraordinary,  as  she  had  left  the  nursery  at  her  moth- 
ers commands  to  marry  him ;  not  but  that   Lady  de 
Clifford  was,  in  thought,   word,  and  deed,  what  any 
other  man  would  have  considered  perfection  for  a  wife ; 
but  then,  for  such  superhuman  merits  as  his,  what  could 
be  good  enough?     Still  it  might  have  puzzled  even  him 
to  find  a  real  fault  in  her;  for  had  she  to  her  other  rare 
qualities  added  the  rarest  of  all,  that  of  being  able  to 
adore  him,  she  could  not  have  anticipated,  and  prevent- 
ed, and  studied  every  wish  of  liis,  with  more  scrupulous 
devotion  and  delicacy  than  she  did.     This  his  selfish- 
ness could  not  help  feeling,  though  his  heart  or  his 
memory  never  recollected  it,  or  he  could  not  have  sub- 
jugated her  so  completely  to  the  surveillance,  interfe- 
rence, and  petty  tyranny  of  every  member  of  his  family 
as  he  did.     But  then  they  were  his  family,  and,  conse- 
quently, must  know  better  about  everything,  from  the 
dressing  of  a  child  to  the  drowning  of  a  puppy,  than 
any  wife  could  possibly  do.     Not  that  he  did  not,  im- 
bruted  as  he  was,  see  his  wife's  superiority ;  for  no 
on«  could,  when  occasion  required,  make  more  use  of 
her  talents ;  but  then  he  liked  to  ti^y  and  make  his  fam- 
ily, the  world,  and  especially  herself,  believe  that  she 
was  as  ignorant  and  inferior  as,  according  to  his  opin- 
ions, every  woman  ought  to  be.     After  Lord  de  Clifford 
had  made  one  of  his  stiffest  bows  to  Mowbray,  and  as 
stiffly  shaken  Saville  by  the  hand,  he  inflicted  himself 
upon  poor  Madame  de  A.,  making  commonplace  obser- 
VoL.  I.— D 


38  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

rations  upon  the  opera,  in  bad  French  and  worse  Italian, 
till  even  she  was  wearied  out  of  her  good-breeding  into 
exclaiming,  "Mais,  mon  Dieu!  milord  parlais  Anglais, 
et  je  tacherai  de  vous  comprendre."  Meanwhile,  Mow- 
bray and  Lady  de  ClifTord  had  resumed  their  conversa- 
tion, and  the  name  of  Grimstone  reaching  his  ear,  ac- 
companied by  a  slight  laugh,  he  turned  to  his  sposa,  and 
inquired,  with  an  angry  frown,  and  a  sneering  smile 
that  made  an  awkward  attempt  to  neutralize  it, 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  my  brother  ]" 

Lady  De  Clifford  crimsoned  to  her  very  temples,  and 
in  the  greatest  confusion  stammered  out,  "  No — yes — 
that  is,  Mr.  Mowbray  was  talking  about  my  giddy  cous- 
in, George  Pierpoint,  and  your  brother  whom  he  also 
met  at  Vienna." 

Mowbray  was  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  the  neces- 
sity of  this  evident  embarrassment  and  equivocation 
could  be,  as  he  had  merely  been  recording  Mr.  Herbert 
Grimstone's  awful  importance  whenever  a  courier  was 
going  out,  and  it  was  neces-sary  to  make  up  a  bag, 
whether  of  ladies'  letters  and  commissions,  or  of  circu- 
lar negatives  from  the  "  corps  diplomatique"  to  their 
English  duns ;  but  certain  it  was  she  had  equivocated 
in  the  most  undeniable  manner ;  for  at  the  moment, 
and,  indeed,  for  some  time  before,  there  had  been  no 
mention  of  Pierpoint's  name.  Then  why  cenounce  him 
to  her  husband  as  being  the  subject  of  their  conversa- 
tion ?  It  was  strange,  it  was  passing  strange !  Could 
one  so  gifted,  so  amiable  as  she  appeared  (and  on 
whose  countenance  candour  itself  seemed  to  have  set 
her  seal),  could  she  be  guilty  of  art,  of  subterfuge,  nay, 
almost  of  positive  want  of  truth  T  It  would  be  impos- 
sible to  describe  the  painful  revulsion  that  took  place  in 
Mowbray's  feelings  as  he  asked  himself  these  questions. 
"  Fool !"  said  he,  as  he  felt  his  cheek  flushing  and  his 
pulse  beating  quickly,  "  and  what  is  it  to  me  if  she  is 
all  that's  artful,  all  that's  bad  \  And  yet,  why,  oh!  why 
are  we  thus  to  be  eternally  disappointed  in  all  earthly 
things?  why,  when  we  no  sooner  find  flowers  more 
fair,  more  fresh,  more  bright  than  others,  must  we  at 
the  same  time  discover  that  '  the  trail  of  the  serpent  is 
over  them  alH'" 

There  is  no  knowing  how  long  he  might  have  mor- 
alized within  himself,  had  not  his  revery  been  broken 
in  upon  by  the  ailver  voice  of  Lady  de  Clifford  asking 


THB    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  39 

him  to  reach  her  shawl,  as  the  ballet  was  over :  that 
voice,  so  low,  so  soft,  so  touching,  seemed  to  his  heat- 
ed imagination  like  that  of  an  angel  pronouncing  a 
pitying  absolution  upon  his  sin,  in  having  for  a  moment 
doubted  its  divinity.  He  folded  the  shawl  almost  rev- 
erentially, and,  in  placing  it  on  her  shoulders,  he  did  it 
as  gently  as  though  one  rough  movement  would  have 
been  sacrilege ;  nor  did  he  venture  to  offer  his  arm  till 
he  perceived  there  was  no  one  else  left  to  do  so ;  and 
then  quickly  and  silently  they  followed  the  rest  of  the 
parly  down  stairs :  he  placed  his  fair  charge  in  the  car- 
riage without  even  saying  "  good-night ;"  nor  was  he 
roused  to  a  sense  of  this  omission,  till  the  sonorous 
pomposity  of  Lord  de  Chfford's  voice,  asking  him  to 
accompany  Saville  to  dinner  at  his  house  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  enabled  him  to  accept  the  invitation  and  make 
his  adieus  at  the  same  time.  No  sooner  was  he  seated 
in  his  own  carriage,  than  Saville  turned  round  and  joy- 
ously exclaimed, 

"  Well,  Mowbray,  what  do  you  think  of  her?  Did  I 
say  too  much  !" 

"  Think  of  her!"  said  Mowbray  ;  "  what  can  any  one 
think  but  that  she  is  an  angel,  as  far  as  outward  appear- 
ance goes — but — but — " 

"  But  what  V'  interrupted  Saville  ;  "  for  Heaven's 
sake,  Mowbray,  what  do  you  mean?" 

Mowbray,  asliamed  to  find  that  he  had  not  been  an- 
swering his  friend's  question,  but  recurring  to  Lady  de 
Clifford's  evasion,  felt  heartily  ashamed  both  of  his 
selfishness  and  his  suspicion,  and  turned  off  the  disqual- 
ifying but  that  had  so  alarmed  poor  Saville  into — 

"But  I  was  going  to  say,  Harry,  when  you  inter- 
rupted me,  that  I  think  it  a  pity  you  should  put  your- 
self iu  the  way  of  so  much  temptation,  unless  there  is 
some  chance  of  your  father's  consent. " 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,"  said  -Saville,  who  was  too  happy  to 
be  critical  upon  the  probabihties  of  the  latter  being 
Mowbray's  original,  "  but  as  to  that,  you  know,  by  my 
uncle  Cecil's  will,  I  am  to  inherit  what  he  left  me  at 
seven-and-iwenty ;  that  I  shall  be  in  two  years,  and 
abroad  we  can  do  very  well  on  two  thousand  a  year ; 
only  the  worst  of  it  is,  two  years  is  a  devil  of  a  tune  to 
wait." 

Mowbray  drank  more  hock  and  soda-water  that  night 
than  would  have  quenched  the  thirst  of  twenty  fevers; 


40  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

and  Saville  declared  it  was  too  hot  to  think  of  bed 
those  three  hours,  and  talked  incessantly  of  Fanny; 
Mowbray  to  all  appearance  listened  most  attentively ; 
never  once  interrnpting  him,  and  only  nodding  assent  to 
every  perfection  he  accused  her  of.  When  at  length 
they  retired  for  the  night,  sleep  seemed  as  far  from 
them  as  ever.  Saville  was  too  happy,  and  in  too  much 
anticipation  of  happiness,  to  sleep ;  and  Mowbray  had 
such  an  innate  love  of  truth,  that  he  kept  turning  and 
twisting  Lady  de  Clifford's  dereliction  from  it  in  every 
possible  and  impossible  form,  till  the  cathedral  clock 
tolled  five  ;  when,  turning  round,  and  flinging  the  pillow 
from  him,  he  lulled  himself  to  sleep  with  his  opera  in- 
terrogation, "  and  what  is  it  to  me  if  she  is  all  that's 
artful  and  all  that's  bad  1" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Let  no  man  on  his  first  falling  in  with  the  devi^,  evince  towards 
him  a  forbearing  civility,  lest,  like  unto  a  maiden's  importunate 
lover,  he  construe  it  into  a  secret  yearning  hiniward.  For  the  devil, 
like  his  pupil  man,  is  a  vain  devil ;  and  it  taketh  much  to  disconcert 
him  with  himself,  or  despair  him  of  success  ;  therefore,  at  the  onset, 
say  thou,  '  Get  thee  behind  ine,  Satan,'  lest  from  encouragement 
no  bigger  than  a  midge's  egg,  he  (like  all  low  knaves  courting  the 
acquaintanceship  of  their  superiors)  in  a  short  time  get  too  fast  hold 
on  thee,  for  all  thy  strength  to  shuffle  him  off,  and  so  he  end  by  riding 
rough-shod  over  thy  soul." — Francis  Flowerdale. 

It  was  late  the  next  morning  before  Mowbray  came 
down  to  breakfast,  and  he  found  that  Saville  had  been 
gone  out  some  time  to  the  palazza.  His  first  impulse 
was  to  follow  him  thither ;  but,  on  reflection,  he  thought 
it  would  appear  obtrusive,  and,  moreover,  the  great  de- 
sire he  felt  to  do  so  convinced  him  (as  he  walked  up 
and  down  the  room  in  a  state  of  wavering  deliberation) 
that  it  would  be  better  he  did  not.  "  No,  no,"  said  he, 
snatching  up  his  hat ;  "  as  I  am  to  dine  there,  that  is 
enough."  Yet,  thought  he,  I  should  like  to  see  if  it  is 
possible  that  she  can  look  as  well  of  a  morning  as  she 
does  at  night ;  and  if  she  does  or  does  not,  what  is  that 
to  me  1  Nothing,  absolutely  nothing !  and  the  short 
bitter  laugh  that  followed  the  mental  answer  he  had 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  41 

given  to  his  o\vti  thoughts,  left  Mowbray  persuaded  that 
he  had  bullied  himself  into  a  state  of  most  noble  and 
heroic  indifference  about  Lady  de  Clifford,  and  indeed 
everything  else  in  the  world;  and  clearing  the  stairs 
"  a  trois  pas,"  he  walked  slowly  on  towards  the  cathe- 
dral. "  By-lhe-by,"  thought  he,  "  1  may  as  well  go  and 
pay  my  old  friend  San  Carlos,  of  Bozzomeo,  a  visit,  and 
see  if  time  has  robbed  him  of  any  more  features."  He 
entered  the  church,  and  walked  on  till  he  met  a  sacristan 
to  conduct  him  down  to  the  golden  and  gorgeous  chapel 
that  contains  the  saint's  mortal  remains ;  but  on  re- 
moving the  outer  case  of  the  crystal  coffin,  the  body 
appeared  just  the  same  as  it  had  done  some  ten  years 
before,  tlie  nose  being  the  only  feature  that  had  taken 
its  solitary  departure.  "  And  even  the  most  beautiful 
■will  come  to  this,  only  much  sooner!"  said  Mowbray 
aloud,  in  English,  and  he  sighed  as  he  said  it :  his  sigh 
was  more  than  echoed  by  one  so  low,  deep,  and  sepul- 
cliral,  that  he  would  have  almost  fancied  it  had  proceed- 
ed from  the  coffni  before  him,  had  not  the  words  "e 
vero — vero,"  accompanied  the  sigh,  as  if  in  assent  to 
liis  soliloquy.  lie  turned  in  every  direction  to  ascer- 
tain from  whence  the  sigh  and  the  words  had  proceed- 
ed, but  could  perceive  no  one  ;  the  sacristan  smiled,  and 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  said,  "  O  signor,  questa  qualca 
povero  diavolo  che  fato  la  sua  penitcnza ;"  but  Mow- 
bray only  became  more  puzzled  to  imagine  how  a  poor 
Italian  sinner  performing  his  penance  could  understand 
English  sufficiently  to  reply  to  his  remark.  In  ascend- 
ing the  staircase  that  led  into  the  body  of  the  church, 
he  looked  all  about,  but  could  see  no  one  save  a  stray 
Avonian  here  and  there,  with  her  high  Spanish-looking 
comb  and  long  black  or  white  veil,  saying  her  beads, 
but  at  too  great  a  distance  to  have  responded  to  his  ex- 
clamation at  the  tomb  of  San  Carlos;  to  be  sure,  there 
were  confessionals  in  all  directions,  and  the  sighs  or 
ejaculations  of  their  tenants  might  easily  have  descended 
through  the  grating  into  the  chapel.  Still  it  was  a 
strange  coincidence,  and  Mowbray  could  not  help  pon- 
dering upon  it  as  he  walked  through  the  sunny  and 
French-looking  streets  of  Milan.  There  is  something 
French,  too,  in  the  air  of  the  Milanese  themselves  ;  and 
then  the  "  passages,  cafes,  and  restaurants"  of  every 
street  look  so  Parisian  as  to  make  one  fancy  that,  after 
the  carnage  and  desolation  of  Lodi,  Pavia,  and  Binasco, 
D2 


42  CHEVELEY  ;  OR, 

the  French,  by  way  of  atonement  (and  they  no  doubt 
would  consider  it  an  ample  one  for  any  aggression), 
must  have  inoculated  Milan  with  Paris. 

After  Mowbray  had  sauntered  about  for  an  hour  or 
two  with  most  murderous  designs  upon  time  (who,  by- 
the-by,  of  all  tyrants  is  the  most  difficult  to  assassinate), 
the  thought  struck  him  that  every  one  in  all  probabihty 
would  be  at  the  Corso,  and  why  should  he  not  be  there 
too? 

Accordingly,  inquiring  the  shortest  way  to  the  Alber- 
go  Reale,  he  ordered  his  horse,  and  galloped  thither  with 
as  much  velocity  as  Napoleon  may  have  been  supposed 
to  have  done  when  he  went  to  plant  his  adventurous 
cannon  at  the  Bridge  of  Lodi. 

What  a  happy,  gay-looking  place  that  said  Corso  is, 
with  its  nice  English-looking  equipages!  the  horses 
suited  to  the  carriages,  and  the  carriages  to  the  horses, 
and  the  servants  to  both,  without  one  iota  of  the  shabby 
and  fanciful  discrepances  that  generally  distinguish  a 
continental  turnout ! 

As  Mowbray,  who  had  now  slackened  his  pace,  was 
riding  leisurely  along,  his  horse  was  a  little  startled  by 
Prince  setting  off  full  speed,  and  barking  with  delight. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  dog]"  asked  Mowbray, 
turning  to  the  groom. 

"  He  sees  Mr.  Saville,  sir,  out  yander,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Where  ]"  asked  Mowbray. 

"  By  the*  'ere  trees,  sir,  at  the  fur  side,  riding  with 
a  lady  and  gentleman." 

Again  the  flanks  of  Mowbray's  horse  had  the  full  bene- 
fit of  his  spurs,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  had  joined  the 
party,  which  proved  to  be  Miss  Neville,  Lord  de  Clif- 
ford, and  Saville. 

"Is  that  your  dog,  Mr.  Mowbray?"  asked  Fanny; 
'*  what  a  beautiful  creature  !  Julia  must  see  it ;  she  dotes 
on  dogs." 

"  Sl.e  has  a  vast  deal  too  many  dogs  already,"  growled 
Lord  de  Clifford,  "and  there  is  no  use  in  encouraging 
her  propensity  for  them." 

"  Lady  de  Clifford  is  not  here,  is  she  V  inquired  Mow- 
bray. 

"Yes;  I  believe  she's  driving  with  my  mother;  at 
least  1  desired  her  to  come  here  ;  so  I  conclude  that 
she  has,"  said  the  noble  lord,  drawing  up  with  his  most 
husbandly  and  authoritative  air. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  43 

The  words  "7  desired  her  to  come  here,"  tingled 
strangely  in  Mowbray's  ear.  "  Good  heavens !"  thought 
he,  "does  he  play  the  despot  even  in  such  trifles?"  A 
feeling  of  sickening  disgust  stole  over  him,  which, 
strange  to  say,  was  accompanied  with  a  determination 
to  insinuate  himself  as  much  as  possible  into  Lord  de 
Clifford's  good  graces,  by  showing  that  sort  of  deferen- 
tial homage  to  his  pomposity  which  he  seemed  to  de- 
mand from  every  one.  So  Jrie  contented  himself  with 
replying  : 

"  Oh !  then  of  course  she  is  here."  The  "  lurking 
devil"  he  detected  at  the  corner  of  Fanny's  eye  might 
have  endangered  his  gravity,  had  he  not  taken  refuge 
in  admiring  Lord  de  Clifford's  mare. 

"  A  beautiful  creature  that  of  yours,"  said  Mowbray. 

"  Yes,  she  is ;  1  liad  great  difficulty  in  getting  her ;  her 
dam  was  out  of  Austerlitz,  the  celebrated  charger  of 
Marechal  B. ;  and  the  sire  to  Austerlitz  was  grandson 
to  Sultan,  the  Arabian  that  Napoleon  rode  at  the  battle 
of  Marengo." 

"  Oh  !  cheval  illustre  d'un  Ane  peu  renomfe,"  said  Fan- 
ny, in  a  stage  whisper. 

"  Here  is  Lady  de  Clifford,"  said  her  amiable  husband, 
as  he  rode  up  to  the  carriage,  and  addressed  the  follow- 
ing endearing  interrogatory  to  her. 

"Why,  what  the  d — 1  has  kept  you  so  late  V 

"Julia's  Italian  master  was  late,  and  I  did  not  like  to 
leave  her  at  home,  so  I  wailed  for  her,"  said  Lady  de 
Clifford. 

"  Lady  de  Clifford  of  course  knows  best ;  but  I  thought 
it  a  pity,"  interposed  the  dowager,  who  strikingly  re- 
sembled a  withered  crab-apple,  gifted  with  a  parrot's 
beak  and  tongue,  "  for  a  walk  would  have  been  much 
better  for  the  child,  and  we  should  not  have  lost  the  finest 
part  of  the  day.     Pretty  dear,  hold  up  your  head." 

"  Oh  !  but,  papa,"  said  the  child, "  I  begged  of  mamma 
to  stay  for  me,  so  that  it  is  all  my  fault." 

"You  should  learn,  Julia,"  replied  the  affectionate 
father,  "when  /give  an  order  to  obey  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  child,  hanging  dovm  her 
head ;  and  then  brushing  away  the  tears  that  stood  in 
her  eyes,  she  threw  her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck, 
and  said,  "  Dear  mamma,  I'm  so  sorry  I  asked  you  to 
stay  for  me.  but  I  Avill  never  do  so  again." 

During  this  httle  scene  Mowbray  had  full  time  to  as- 


44  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

certain  to  his  perfect  satisfaction  that  Lady  de  Clifford, 
if  possible,  looivcd  more  beautiful  of  a  morning  than  at 
nigiit ;  but  he  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  tliis  desirable 
conclusion,  than  the  current  of  liis  thouglits  was  inter- 
rupted by  Lord  de  Clifford's  begging  to  introduce  him 
to  his  mother.  Mowbray  bowed,  and  that  was  all  he 
could  do,  for  there  are  persons  to  whom  it  is  quite  im- 
possible to  say  anything,  and  her  ladyship  was  one  of 
them ;  but  pitying  what  she  considered  his  diffidence, 
she  kindly  undertook  "  de  faire  les  frais"  of  the  conver- 
sation ;  and  so,  beating  down  from  the  opposite  seat  of 
the  carriage  two  little  Blenheim  dogs  of  her  daughter- 
in-law's,  began  it  by  saying  she  was  "  vausthf  fond  of 
dogs  in  general. 

"  I  dare  say,  Mr.  Mowbray,  you  are  quite  shocked  at 
seeing  so  many  dogs  ;  it  quite  spoils  one's  drive,  makes 
the  carriage  look  like  a  dog  omnibus,  disarranges  one's 
dress,  and  destroys  one's  comfort.  Those  two  Blen- 
heims are  horridly  snappish ;  Zoe,  the  greyhound,  is 
rather  more  good-humoured,  but  so  frightfully  frolick- 
some,  she  keeps  one's  nerves  in  a  contmual  flutter;  it 
is  a  thousand  pities  Lady  de  Clifford  has  such  a  mania 
for  dogs.  Look  at  that  creature's  tail,  how  it's  going ! 
positively  perpetual  motion." 

When  her  ladyship  had  concluded  this  eloquent  piece 
of  alliteration,  Mowbray  ventured  to  take  Lady  de  Clif- 
ford's part,  by  confessing  his  own  fondness  for  dogs. 
"  Lideed,"  said  he,  "  I  have  a  dog  that  I  am  so  proud 
of,  that  I  should  have  introduced  him  to  you  ;  but,  after 
your  philippic  against  the  present  company,  1  dare  not." 

"  Oh !  dear,"  said  the  amiable  lady,  "  I  have  no  ob- 
jection to  dogs  in  their  proper  place;  quite  the  con- 
trary." 

I  have  remarked  that  this  assertion  about  liking  dogs 
in  their  proper  place,  old  maids  and  servant-maids  seem 
to  consider  as  the  test  of  a  moral  and  well-regulated 
mind. 

"Is  that  your  dog]"  asked  Lady  de  Clifford,  point- 
ing to  Prince,  who  sat  panting  with  his  tongue  out  and 
his  ears  up  by  the  side  of  his  master's  horse.  "  "What 
a  dear  dog !  do  make  him  put  his  paws  up  on  the  car- 
riage." 

"  Prince  !  Prince  !  come  here,  sir !"  and  Prince  took 
Waller's  advice  to  Sacharissa,  that  is,  "  came  forth,  and 
suffered  himself  to  be  admired." 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  45 

"  Very  fine  beast,  indeed,"  said  the  dowager,  patroni- 
singly. 

"Oh!  zoo  nice  dog,"  said  Lady  de  Clifford,  kissing 
its  head. 

"  Oh !  you  lucky  dog,"  said  Mowbray,  as  he  pushed 
him  down. 

Lord  de  Clifford  began  to  lower,  and  issued  a  procla- 
mation that,  after  they  had  taken  another  turn,  it  would 
be  time  to  go  home  and  dress  for  dinner.  Mowbray  and 
Saville  took  the  hint,  and  saying  "  au  revoir,"  galloped 
away. 

When  Saville  and  Mowbray  arrived  at  Lord  de  Clif- 
ford's, they  found  the  Conite  and  Contessa  A.,  Conite 
C,  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Seymour,  and  a  young  French  dan- 
dy, a  Monsieur  de  liivoli,  who  did  not  seem  to  have 
made  up  his  mind  wliich  he  should  be  most  vain  of,  him- 
self or  his  English  ;  though,  of  course,  had  it  come  to 
a  ballot,  he  would  have  given  a  casting  vote  for  himself, 
as  he  vas  French. 

"  Dinner,  directly,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford,  in  that 
loud,  ill-bred  voice,  which  gives  the  last  arrival  fully  to 
understand  how  late  tliey  are. 

"  Do  you  know  the  Comte  C.  1"  inquired  he,  turning 
to  Mowbray. 

"  Yes,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  in  England." 

"  Ah !  how  you  do,  my  dear  fellow  ]"  said  the  comte, 
extending  his  hand. 

"  I  see,"  said  Mowbray,  "  you  pay  us  the  compliment 
of  keeping  up  your  English." 

"  Oh !  we  are  all  English  at  Milan  :  you  know  we  have 
an  Anglo  mania,"  said  the  comte,  who  really  spoke  Eng- 
lish remarkably  well  for  an  Italian. 

"  What  ver  great  heat  he  is  to-day,"  observed  Mon- 
sieur de  Rivoli  to  Lady  de  Clifford,  with  the  intention 
of  outshining  Comte  C. ;  and  then,  turning  to  Fanny,  for 
fear  she  should  be  jealous  of  his  devoting  himself  to  her 
sister,  for  a  Frenclnnan  not  only  possesses  an  amiable 
fear  of  inflicting  pain  on  the  "  beau  sexe,"  but  imagines 
himself  a  sort  of  Achilles'  spear,  which  can  alone  heal 
the  wounds  it  inflicts,  said  to  her, 

*'  But,  what  has  arrive  to  you,  Miss  Neville,  dat  I  no 
see  you  on  de  Corso  to-day]" 

"  Rather  let  me  ask  you  that  question,"  rephed  Fanny, 
laughing;  "for  I  was  there  for  two  hours." 

"  But,  no !  he  is  not  possibel,  and  I  no  see  you.    Ah !" 


46  CHEVELEY ;     OR, 

continued  he,  grasping  the  side  curls  of  his  hair,  "  it  is 
my  bad  habitude,  'de  rever,  comment  dites  vous  celal' 
of  de  reflection." 

There  is  no  knowing  how  many  sad  consequences 
Monsieur  de  Rivoh  might  have  instanced  of  the  effects 
of  his  habit  of  deep  thinking,  had  not  dinner  been  an- 
nounced. 

Comte  C.  gave  his  arm  to  Lady  de  Clifford,  Saville 
secured  Fanny,  and  as  Mowbray  fell  to  the  share  of  Mrs. 
Seymour,  and  Lord  de  Clifford,  "  en  regie,"  took  out 
Madame  de  A.,  Monsieur  de  Rivoli  was  interrupted  in 
the  paternal  petting  he  was  bestowing  upon  his  mus- 
taches, to  find  that  the  Fates  had  decreed  for  him  their 
likeness,  the  dowager  Lady  de  Clifford ;  and  he  had 
only  time  "  mentally  to  exclaim,"  as  the  heroes  and  he- 
roines of  the  Minerva  press  have  it,  "  Ah !  la  pauvre  pe- 
tite Fanni,  c'est  facheux  par  exemple  ce  contretems  !" 
ere  he  felt  the  dowager's  skinny  arm  closely  hnked  in 
his. 

At  dinner,  Mowbray  found  himself  next  to  Lady  de 
Clifford ;  and  he  fancied,  as  the  light  shone  full  on  her 
face,  that  her  eyes  looked  red,  as  if  she  had  been  crying. 
"  I  fear  you  are  not  well  V  said  he,  in  a  low  voice, 
which  appeared  more  anxious  than  the  occasion  re- 
quired. 

"  I  am  quite  well,"  said  she,  smiling ;  "  only  a  slight 
headache  from  the  heat." 

"  Saville,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford,  "try  that  Johannes- 
berg  ;  it  is  some  my  brother  sent  me.  I  think,"  con- 
tinued he  to  Mowbray,  "  you  knew  my  brother  at  Vi- 
enna ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  latter,  "  we  had  many  merry  days 
there  together." 

Lord  de  Clifford  looked  surprised — as  surprised  at  his 
coupling  the  word  merry  with  his  brother's  name,  as  if 
he  had  asserted  that  he  had  passed  many  merry  days  at 
the  Morgue. 

"  I  remember,"  recommenced  Mowbray,  "  that  he  was 
always  in  a  great  state  of  mind  whenever — " 

"  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  Lady  de  Clifford,  interrupting 
him  with  such  "impressment"  as  showed  that  she  evi- 
dently wished  to  deter  him  from  saying  whatever  he 
was  going  to  say  about  her  brother-in-law,  "  Mr.  Mow- 
bray, do  you  know  that  Madame  A.  is  going  to  give  a 
'  bal  costuraee,'  and  all  the  dresses  are  to  be  from  the 


THE    MAN   OF   HONOUR.  47 

different  epochs  of  Italian  history ;  and  we  are  to  have 
all  the  Italian  painters  and  poets,  so  that  we  have  been 
studying  Sisniondi  for  the  last  week  ;  and  I  think  of  go- 
ing as  Johanna,  Queen  of  Naples,  dressed  after  the  pic- 
ture of  her ;  and  I  want  Fanny  to  go  as  Laura,  and  Mr. 
Saville  must  make  tlie  best  Petrarch  lie  can."  As  she 
finished  this  rapid  recital,  she  laughed  almost  hysteri- 
cally. 

Mowbray  was  so  lost  in  thought,  that  he  scarcely 
heard  anything  but  her  last  words,  and  was  a  minute 
or  two  before  he  could  make  any  reply.  Good  heavens ! 
thought  he,  that  eternal  Jiian  !  what  can  her  objection 
be  to  his  name  being  mentioned  at  least  to  her  husband! 
I  would  give  anytliing  on  earth  to  fathom  this  mystery; 
and  yet  what  is  it  to  me  I  This  question  recalled  him 
to  the  necessity  of  making  some  answer  to  wliat  Lady 
de  Clifford  had  been  saying,  and  repeating  with  a  me- 
chanical and  abstracted  air, 

"  Jolianna,  Queen  of  Naples !  and  is  Lord  de  Clifford 
going  as  Prince  Andrew  ]"  and,  as  he  asked  this,  Mow- 
bray sent  his  quick  penetrating  eyes  into  her  very  soul. 
She  appeared  offended  at  the  question,  and  colouring 
slightly,  said  rather  haughtily, 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  keep  the  unities  at  a  fancy 
ball ;  and  as  most  women  have  no  characters  at  all,  I 
do  not  feel  bound  '  faute  de  mieux,'  to  take  upon  me 
Johanna's,  although  /  am  inclined  to  believe  Petrarch 
and  Boccaccio,  especially  the  latter,  that  it  was  a  very 
excellent  one." 

How  awkward  the  sense  of  having  wounded  the 
feehngs  of  another  makes  one  !  It  is  the  conviction  of 
how  contemptible  we  must  appear  in  their  eyes,  that 
prevents  us  readily  placing  ourselves  in  a  better  light. 
Mowbray  would  have  given  the  world  to  have  unsaid 
what  he  had  said,  or  to  have  atoned  for  it ;  but  he  felt 
both  equally  impossible.  In  this  embarrassment,  some 
street  music  began  playing  the  Duke  de  Reichstadt's 
waltz.  Lady  de  Chfford,  feeling  for  his  confusion, 
turned  to  him  with  one  of  her  most  open  and  sunny 
smiles,  and  said, 

"  I  am  so  fond  of  that  waltz !    Is  it  not  pretty  V 

"  Pretty  !"  said  Mowbray,  thinking  of  and  looking  at 
her  ;  "  it  is  beautiful,  perfectly  beautiful ;  it  is  angelic  !" 

"  Come,"  said  she,  laughing,  "  you  are  determined 


48  cheveley;  or, 

not  to  offend  me  by  not  agreeing  with  me,  or  sufficient- 
ly admiring  what  I  admire." 

Mowbray  was  ni)w  plunged  into  fresh  confusion  at 
the  idea  of  how  absurd  and  exaggerated  his  answer  must 
have  appeared  to  her,  and  never  felt  more  grateful  in 
his  life  than  when  Monsieur  de  Rivoii  brought  the  eyes 
and  attention  of  every  one  upon  him,  by  exclaiming 
aloud,  "  Ah,  le  pauvre  Due  de  Reichsdat !"  and  then 
lawnching  out  into  a  hyperbolical  eulogium  on  his  father. 
The  fact  is,  the  little  man  could  make  nothing  of  her 
dowagership,  and  thought  himself  completely  lost  in  be- 
ing "  accroche"  to  her,  and  therefore  determined  that  the 
rest  of  the  party  should  no  longer  be  losers  by  his  mo- 
nopoly of  what  she  did  not  appear  to  benefit  by,  namely, 
his  delightful  conversation  ;  and  as  a  Frenchman  is 
never  at  a  loss  for  a  great  man  to  associate  himself 
with,  he  instantly  put  himself  "  en  scene""  with  Napoleon. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford,  with  as  great  emphasis 
as  if  it  had  been  the  first  time  the  discovery  and  the  as- 
sertion had  been  made,  "  Yes,  he  certainly  was  a  great, 
a  very  great  man." 

"I  cannot  conceive,"  said  Mrs.  Seymour,  "how Ma- 
rie Louise,  after  having  been  united  to  such  a  man, 
could  have  a  lover,  and  that,  too,  before  his  death,  and 
while  he  was  in  exile." 

"Ah,  bah,  bah!"  exclaimed  Monsieur  de  Rivoii: 
"  Croyez  vous  madame  que  parce  q'une  fern  me  a  epou- 
see  un  grand  homme  qu'elle  doit  perdre  son  temps !" 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  universal  laugh  that  followed 
this  noble  defence  of  the  ex-empress.  Lady  de  CliflTord 
rose  to  go  into  the  drawing-room  ;  and  as  she  passed  her 
husband,  Mowbray  saw  his  eyes  glare  sternly  and  an- 
grily upon  his  wife ;  nor  was  his  surprise  diminished 
when  he  heard  him  say  to  her,  "I  think,  madam,  it  is 
not  very  decorous  of  my  wife  to  laugh  at  such  indeli- 
cate jests." 

"  Good  heavens  !"  thought  Mowbray,  "  how  can  she 
keep  her  temper  with  such  a  tyrannical  brute  V  He 
looked  at  her  with  a  feeling  of  compassion  that  was 
quite  painful ;  but  the  only  expression  he  saw  on  her 
countenance  was  one  of  mingled  wounded  pride  and 
endurance  ;  there  was  no  resentment,  open  or  sup- 
pressed. 

When  Monsieur  de  Rivoii  had  "  debarasseed"  him- 
self of  the  dowager,  by  depositing  her  in  a  "  bergere,' 


'I 

1 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  49 

and  when  he  had  passed  half  an  hour  "  en  faissant  I'ai- 
mable"  to  Madame  de  A.,  and  telling  her  how  she  ought 
to  manage  her  "  bal  costume,"  he  began  tumbling  over 
all  the  books  on  the  table,  and  look  up  an  English  edi- 
tion of  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werter." 

"  Ah,  ha !  my  old  friend  Verter,"  said  he ;  and,  slap- 
ping his  forehead,  continued,  "je  me  souviens  du  temps 
quand  je  ne  faisait  le  moindre  demarche  sans  mes  pisto- 
lets  dans  une  poche  et  Verter,  dans  Tautre.  Mais  ce 
printemps  de  la  vie  eel  etc  de  Tame  est  passee  la  sa- 
gesse  a  mit  fin  au  bonneur  comme  elle  fait  toujours !" 

"  It  is,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford,  pompously,  "a  master- 
piece, like  everything  Goethe  ever  wrote  !"  and  he  look- 
ed roiuid  for  admiration  and  gratitude  for  having  enlight- 
ened his  audience  ;  but  suppressed  1m lighter  was  all  that 
greeted  liim ;  and  Saville,  good-naturedly  wishing  to  take 
the  sins  of  the  whole  party  on  his  own  shoulders,  ven- 
tured boldly  on  a  hearty  laugh,  and  a  stout  dissent  from 
his  lordship's  oracular  opinion. 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  said  lie,  "  it  certainly  has  the  merit 
of  originality,  and  the  good  fortune  to  be  in  no  danger 
of  ever  being  copied ;  it  might  fairly  be  entitled '  Goethe's 
Foruerina.'  It  is  a  regular  bread  and  butter  epic;  the 
unities  are  all  kept  in  bread  and  butter  ;  the  weapons  of 
love  and  destruction  are  still  bread  and  butter;  his  friend- 
ship, his  philanthropy,  is  all  carried  on  through  the  me- 
dium of  these  mighty  implements.  To  wit,"  continued 
Saville,  opening  the  book  :  "  in  writing  to  his  friend,  he 
says, '  but  not  to  keep  you  in  suspense,  I  will  detail  what 
happened  as  I  ate  my  bread  and  butter !'  Again,  at  page 
18,  describing  the  peasant's  children,  and  informing  his 
friend  of  his  overflowing  benevolence  in  giving  each  of 
them  a  '  cruetzer'  every  Sunday,  he  gives  a  still  farther 
instance  of  his  generosity  by  adding, '  and  at  night  they 
partake  of  my  bread  and  butter !'  Now,  considering  how 
fondly  and  faithfully  he  appears  to  have  been  attached 
to  bread  and  butter,  this  was  indeed  true  generosity. 
Again,  who  is  there  that  does  not  remember  the  pathetic 
and  beautiful  description  of  his  first  interview  with  Char- 
lotte, at  page  21 1  This  contains  more  and  most  bread 
and  butter  of  all.  'For,'  says  he,  'she  had  a  brown 
loaf  in  her  hand,  and  was  cutting  slices  of  bread  and 
butter,  which  she  distributed  in  a  graceful  and  aflFection- 
ate  manner  to  the  children,  according  to  their  age  and 
appetite.'    And  finally,  in  the  last  fatal  scene  that  closes 

Vol.  I.— E 


50  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

all,  after  he  had  kissed  the  pistols  which  Charlotte  had 
dusted,  we  are  told  that  he  only  drank  one  glass  of  wine 
(though  he  had  ordered  a  pint)  and  ate  one  slice  of  bread 
and  butter  ere  he  committed  the  rash  act !  Is  not  this, 
my  friends,  a  true  epic  1  and  ought  it  not  to  be  called 
the  '  Bread  and  Buttersey  ■?'  " 

Every  one  laughed  much  at  Saville's  harangue,  except 
Lord  de  Cliflbrd,  who,  drawing  himself  up  pompously, 
said,  "  Ridicule  is  not  argument." 

"  Fanny,  love,"  said  poor  Lady  de  Clifford,  seeing  that 
a  storm  was  brewing  upon  her  sposo's  brow,  "do  sing 
something." 

"  I  have  no  voice  to-night,"  said  Fanny ;  "  and  really 
cannot." 

"  Do,  dearest !"  whispered  Saville,  imploringly. 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  je  vous  en  prie  pour  me  plaire," 
said  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  with  his  hands  up. 

"Pour  vous  plaire,"  said  Fanny,  laughing:  "je  ferais 
des  impossibilites — si  cetait  possible — mais — " 

"  Vraiment,"  said  Madame  de  A.,  "  vous  resemblez 
beaucoup  au  Comle  d'Erfeuil  qui  disait  a  Corinne,  Belle 
Corinne  parlez  Fran9ais  ;  vous  en  etes  vraiment  digne." 

"  Eh  bien  oui,"  said  the  Frenchman,  not  choosing  to 
stand  in  the  ridiculous  position  Madame  de  A.'s  applica- 
tion had  placed  him  :  "  Cela  veut  dire  que  Mademoiselle 
Neville  resemble  a,  Corinne." 

"For  my  part,"  said  the  dowager,  sotto  voce,  "I  do 
not  think  any  singing  worth  so  much  asking  for." 

"  Very  just  observation,  my  dear  madam,"  said  her 
son ;  "  I  am  quite  of  your  opinion ;"  and  then  added, 
"  Come,  Fanny,  cannot  you  go  and  sing  at  once  without 
all  this  fuss  V 

"  1  do  not  choose  to  sing  to-night,"  said  Fanny,  short- 
ly- 

"  Well,"  said  her  sister,  going  good-humouredly  to  the 
piano,  as  she  saw  something  must  be  done  to  keep  off 
the  impending  storm  on  her  husband's  brow,  "  I  will  be 
revenged  upon  you,  for  FU  sing  a  song  that  somebody 
wrote  a  short  time  ago.  Mr  Saville,  have  the  good- 
ness to  reach  me  that  little  book  of  manuscript  music." 

"  Julia  !  Julia !  pray !"  said  Fanny,  stretching  out  her 
hand  for  the  book :  but  her  sister  had  played  the  pre- 
lude, and  Saville  held  the  book  fast,  while  Lady  de 
Clifford  sang  the  following 


THE  MAN  OF    HONOUR.  51 

SONG. 
As  light  o'er  the  waters  breaking, 

So  my  spirit's  gladclen'd  by  thee  ; 
Thou  art  my  dream,  and  when  waking, 

Life  is  but  one  long  thought  of  thee. 

"What  is  joy  but  to  be  near  thee  T 

And  gri'»f  but  to  know  thee  away  ? 
And  music — oh  !  'tis  to  hear  thee, 

For  my  heart  is  the  lute  thou  dost  play. 

Like  JEoVs  harp,  when  forsaken 

By  the  breeze  to  whirh  its  soul  clings, 

No  other  spell  can  awaken 

The  sound  of  its  desolate  strings  : 

So  no  other  voice,  love,  but  thine 

From  my  heart's  soft  echoes  e'er  stole  ; 

Its  tones,  like  deep  passion  flowers,  twine 
Around  everj'  thought  of  my  soul. 

Oh  !  love,  must  thy  buds  ever  fade, 

Unless  they  be  water'd  with  tears  ? 
Is  thine  immortality  made 

Alone  by  tliy  sigbs  and  thy  fears! 

If  so.  then  in  poison  still  steep 

The  arrows  girded  about  thee  : 
With  thee  it  is  dearer  to  weep. 

Than  to  be  happy  without  thee ! 

"And  did  Fanny  write  thaf?"  said  Saville,  in  a  low 
voice  to  her  sister,  when  she  had  ceased  singing. 

Lady  de  Chfford  nodded  assent. 

"  Don't  beUeve  her,"  said  Fanny,  blushing,  as  she 
snatched  the  book  away  from  Saville. 

"  What  a  divine  voice  !"  thought  Mowbray  ;  "  and 
how  lovely  she  looks  when  she  is  singing !  It  gives  one 
the  idea  of  the  spirit  of  music  having  hid  itself  in  the 
ambush  of  a  rose,  and  sending  out  every  note  perfumed 
by  its  leaves." 

That  night  Mowbray  resolved  he  would  leave  Milan 
the  next  day ;  and  well  for  him  would  it  have  been  if 
he  had  kept  to  that  resolution;  but,  for  a  month  after, 
he  was  a  daily  visiter  at  the  palazza.  It  is  true,  it  was 
at  the  especial  invitation  of  its  master — oh !  the  sophis- 
try of  the  human  heart,  when  it  tries,  but  in  vain,  to  de- 
ceive itself!  Then  comes  the  alchymy  of  false  reason- 
ing, that  turns  its  blackest  dross  to  that  seeming  gold, 
which  ends  in  its  own  destruction,  when  we  find  that 


52  cheveley;  or, 

we  have  wasted  life,  hope,  salvation,  on  a  dream  ;  a  wild, 
a  troubled,  an  infatuated  dream.  Mowbray  would  not 
own,  even  to  himself,  that  he  loved  Lady  de  Clifford; 
for  he  thought  that  would  be  almost  as  much  an  infringe- 
ment upon  her  purity  as  though  he  had  dared  to  tell  her 
so.  Fool !  is  not  the  heart  its  own  author  ?  and  cannot 
it  read  its  own  meaning,  whatever  be  the  misprints  we 
try  to  put  upon  it  1  Tliere  was  a  new  existence  for 
him  :  for  the  first  time  he  lived  in  the  present ;  the  past 
he  could  not  think  of,  the  future  he  would  not;  all  na- 
ture was  changed  ;  the  air  had  a  balm,  the  sky  a  bright- 
ness, and  the  commonest  occurrence  an  interest,  which, 
for  him,  they  had  never  had  before ;  for  she  breathed 
that  air,  and  she  saw  that  sky,  and  each  little  incident 
that  occurred  to  him  related  more  or  less  to  her ;  and 
if  at  times  he  saw  more  plainly  than  at  others  the  pre- 
cipice on  which  he  stood,  he  would  hoodwink  himself 
with  the  reflection  that  she  would  never  be  injured ; 
therefore,  what  matter  how  he  suflTered  1  Besides,  he 
asked,  wished,  dreamed  no  greater  happiness  than  to 
see,  to  hear  her ;  and  as  long  as  she  never  knew  the 
happiness  her  presence  gave  him,  where  could  the  harm 
be  ?  No  human  being  knew  it  or  ever  should  know  it ; 
and  surely  it  was  not  because  slie  was  all  that  was 
beautiful,  all  that  was  good,  that  she  was  to  be  the  only 
person  whom  he  was  not  to  feel  a  friendship  for. 
"  False  philosophy  and  vain  reasoning,  all !"  Let  that 
man  beware  how  he  forms  a  friendship  for  a  married 
woman,  whose  first  feehng  towards  her  is  admiration, 
and  his  next  compassion ! 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  J'avais  pr^s  de  vingt  ans,  mon  pfere  voulait  me  marier ;  et  c'est 
ici  que  toute  la  fatalite  de  mon  sort  va  se  deployer." — Corinne. 

When  Lady  de  Clifford  was  little  more  than  seven- 
teen, her  father  happened  to  win  jGlOOO  on  the  St. 
Leger,  from  Lord  de  Clifford ;  and  though  he  had  no 
great  liking  for  the  man,  he  had  a  certain  respect  for 
his  fortune ;  as  he  justly  considered  that  the  father  of 


THE    MAN    or    HONOUR.  53 

three  daughters,  however  beautiful  they  were,  ought 
not  to  be  fastidious  about  the  agreeability  or  aniiabihty 
of  any  man  who  had  a  rent-roll  of  jCSOOO  a  year.  Ac- 
cordingly, before  he  left  Doncaster,  he  gave  him  a 
pressing  invitation  to  come  and  see  him  when  he  re- 
turned to  town  in  the  ensuing  spring. 

Mr.  Neville  was  an  old  aboriginal  Whig,  who  perse- 
vered in  a  spencer,  a  liveried  groom,  and  top-boots,  to 
the  last ;  and  lived  quite  as  much  in  the  window  at 
Brooks's  as  he  did  at  his  house  in  Berkeley  Square, 
where  a  profuse  but  shabby  expenditure  (which  consti- 
tute the  true  Whig  menage),  year  after  year,  involved 
him  more  deeply;  but  of  this  he  thought  little,  as  long 
as  his  house  was  the  focus  of  agreeability.  But  your 
true  Whig  of  the  old  stock,  who  has  drank  with  Sheridan, 
debated  with  Fox,  and  written  sonnets  to  the  Duchess 
of  Devonsliire,  is  somewhat  skeptical  as  to  the  agreea- 
bility, talents,  patriotism,  or  beauty  of  any  other  class, 
clique,  or  coterie  in  the  world,  and  therefore  pertina- 
ciously adheres  to  tlie  L.'s,  R.'s,  S.'s,  H.'s,  and  M.'s,  as 
the  only  people  worth  listening  to  or  looking  at  in  the 
world  :  thus  following  the  Egyptian  fashion  of  honour- 
ing the  mummy  when  tlic  man  is  no  more.  Mr.  Ne- 
ville's house  was  an  epitoiue  of  himself:  tlie  faded  car- 
pets, the  shabby  chints  curtains,  the  small  glasses,  the 
gilt-wood  be-balled  and  bechained  candelabras,  the 
small  faded  butf  ottomans,  with  their  black  glazed  calico 
a  la  Grecq  borders,  the  narrow  dim  grates,  with  their 
still  dimmer  fire-irons  and  fenders  ;  tlie  small  pillory- 
looking  white  and  gilt  armchairs  ;  the  Procrustes  bed 
of  sofa's;  the  unpowdered  and  drab-coated  servants, 
Avith  their  nankeen  smallclothes,  expensive  silk  stock- 
ings, and  ill-made  shoes  ;  the  buff  waistcoated,  and  pep- 
per-and-salt trousered  butler ;  the  red  curtained  dining- 
room,  with  its  red  morocco  chairs  and  its  dark  unpol- 
ished tables,  all  looked  just  as  they  had  done  some 
five-and-thirty  years  before,  when  Pitt  taxed  and  Napo- 
leon fouglit.  In  private  as  well  as  in  political  life,  he 
invariably  had  recourse  to  the  grand  Whig  principle  of 
expediency  and  half  measures.  His  cook  was  a  bad 
man  and  an  habitual  drunkard,  but  an  imcomparable 
cook  ;  so  he  kept  him  on,  compromising  the  matter  by 
giving  him  a  "  carte  blanche"  for  drinking  after  dinner. 
He  was  the  most  bland  and  kindest  husband  and  father 
in  the  world,  as  far  as  words  went,  and  left  nothing  un- 
£  2 


64  CHEVELEY  ;   OR, 

done  to  promote  the  happiness  of  his  wife  or  his  chil- 
dren, except  putting  himself  out  of  the  way ;  conse- 
quently, whenever  the  former  asked  him  for  money,  his 
invariable  answer  was,  "  My  dear  love,  I  really  don't 
know  where  to  turn  for  a  hundred  pounds  in  the  v/orld 
just  now  ;  but  pray  get  whatever  you  want  at  Howell's 
and  Maradan's,  and  they  can  send  me  in  the  bills  at 
Christinas ;  and  for  Heaven's  sake,  mind  that  you  and 
the  girls  don't  deprive  yourselves  of  anything."  In  like 
maiKier  he  allowed  his  sons  to  draw  upon  him;  so  no 
wonder  that  the  credit  side  of  his  banker's  book  always 
presented  an  alarming  aspect,  and  that  poor  Mr.  Neville 
was  truly  an  embarrassed  man !  It  was  one  day  com- 
ing out  of  Hammersley's,  in  no  very  happy  frame  of 
mind,  that  he  again  met  Lord  de  Clifford:  he  asked  hina 
if  he  would  dine  with  him,  and  go  to  the  play  with  Mrs. 
Neville  and  the  girls  in  the  evening.  The  invitation 
was  accepted,  and  at  dinner  he  appeared  much  struck 
with  the  beauty  of  Julia  Neville.  Her  mother  perceiv- 
ed it,  and,  though  her  original  intention  had  been  that 
she  should  not  come  out  for  two  years  (Whigesses  al- 
ways make  their  "  debut"  later  than  other  girls),  she 
now  changed  her  plan,  and  determined  that  Julia  should 
go  to  Almack's  on  the  following  Wednesday,  with 
which  determination  she  took  care  carelessly  to  ac- 
quaint Lord  de  Clifford  in  the  course  of  the  evening; 
and  accordingly,  on  the  following  Wednesday,  precisely 
(for  everything  he  did  was  precise)  at  half  past  eleven, 
his  stiff  figure  was  hitched  in  the  doorway,  ready  to 
pounce  upon  poor  Julia,  whom  he  condescended  to  ask 
to  dance ;  and  after  stalking  through  a  quadrille  with 
her,  he  deposited  her  again  with  her  mother.  Surely, 
thought  Julia,  a  galloppe  or  mazurka  must  be  quite  be- 
yond such  a  cast-iron-looking  personage !  She  was 
right,  and  therefore,  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  enjoyed 
herself;  but  as  he  took  care  to  inform  Mrs.  Neville 
how  very  much  he  disapproved  of  both  the  last-men- 
tioned dances,  it  was  the  last  time  she  ever  allowed  her 
daughter  to  dance  them. 

It  is  needless  to  detail  the  persecution  of  entreaties, 
tears,  and  persuasion  (the  hardest  persecution  of  all  to 
resist  from  those  we  love)  poor  Julia  underwent;  till 
at  length,  weary  and  broken-hearted,  she  gave  herself 
up  at  the  altar  as  the  victim  of  Lord  de  Clifford.  Young 
as  she  was,  she  had  more  character  and  strength  of 


I 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  55 

mind  than  most  women  of  double  her  age ;  and,  there- 
fore, prudently  and  amiably  determined  to  study  every 
whim  of  her  strange  and  unloveable  husband,  in  the 
vain  hope  of  conciliating  and  changing  him  in  time  ;  for 
she  did  not  yet  know  the  nature  she  had  to  deal  with. 
On  their  marriage,  they  went  down  to  a  place  of  his  in 
Yorkshire;  and  Julia's  first  and  most  severe  blow  was 
perceiving  tliat  her  "  stern  lord"  added  to  his  other  fol- 
lies that  common  error  of  all  fools,  namely,  considering 
skepticism  as  the  shortest  and  surest  road  to  philoso- 
phy ;  but  with  an  overwrought  and  culpable  delicacy, 
which  only  her  extreme  youth  and  the  abundant  gener- 
osit}"  of  her  nature  could  excuse,  not  daring  to  advise, 
she  thought  that,  by  submitting  to  his  opmions,  and 
never  obtruding  her  own,  she  might  in  time  gain  an 
influence  over  him  ;  for  which  reason,  fearing  that  re- 
marks might  be  made  in  her  favour  to  his  prejudice, 
she  seldom  or  ever  went  to  the  village  church,  as  he 
chose  totally  to  absent  himself  from  it.  Luckily  for 
her,  the  false  delicacy  of  this  conduct  was  utterly  lost 
upon  him,  and  he  soon  began  tauntingly  to  upbraid  her 
with  her  want  of  piety,  adding,  with  a  hoarse  grunting 
sound  that  he  intended  for  a  laugh,  "  Rehgion  was  made 
on  purpose  for  women  and  children." 

Her  next  trial  was  to  find  that,  instead  of  receiving 
any  attention  from  Lord  de  Clitford's  family,  which,  as 
a  bride,  at  least,  she  might  have  anticipated,  she,  on  the 
contrary,  was  enjoined  by  her  husband  to  bow  down  to 
them  in  all  things.  One  day  he  would  issue  an  order 
that  she  should  not  say  this  nor  do  that,  as  his  brother 
did  not  approve  of  it ;  another  time  she  was  forbidden 
to  wear  a  particular  cap  or  colour,  as  his  mother  did 
not  like  it.  All  this  she  bore  with  miraculous  temper 
and  sweetness,  still  trying  by  every  means  in  her  power 
to  please  her  unpleasable  spouse  and  his  family,  to 
whom  he  seemed  to  consider  her  equally  wedded  and 
bound.  Lord  de  Clifford  had  a  favourite  horse,  towards 
whom,  like  many  more  of  his  compatriots,  he  evinced 
much  more  tenderness  and  attention  than  towards  his 
wife.  One  day,  after  they  had  been  married  about 
three  months,  Julia  went  and  fed  the  animal  herself, 
thinking  it  would  please  her  husband ;  and  then  going 
into  the  library,  where  he  was  sitting,  surrounded  by 
"  learned  lumber,"  which  he  was  in  vain  trying  to  get 
into  his  head,  said. 


66  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Oh,  George,  I  have  been  feeding  Selim,  and  he 

looked  so  handsome,  and  rubbed  his  head  against  me  !" 

"  Lady  de  CHfford,"  said  he,  frowning,  and  laying 
down  the  book  he  was  reading,  "I  beg  you  will  leave 
off  caUing  me  those  famihar  names.  I  permitted  it  at 
first,  in  the  nonsense  of  the  honey-moon,  as  it  is  vul- 
garly called ;  but,  upon  reflection,  I  am  convinced  that 
they  do  away  with  that  solemnity  of  respect  which  a 
wife  ought  to  evince  towards  a  husband  ;  and  as  for 
feeding  Selim,  I  must  say  that  I  think  it  is  very  undig- 
nified for  my  wife  to  be  going  into  stables  and  places 
among  grooms  and  helpers,  and  must  beg  that  it  does 
not  happen  again." 

Poor  Julia  could  not  believe  that  even  he  was  in  ear- 
nest in  forbidding  her  to  call  him  "  George  ; "  and  think- 
ing this  must  be  his  debut  at  a  jest,  actually  burst  out 
laughing,  but  she  was  soon  undeceived ;  for  Lord  de 
Clifford,  flinging  down  the  book  he  held,  and  clinching 
his  hand  at  her,  said,  with  his  eyes  kindling,  like  lava 
burned  white,  "  By  G — d,  if  you  dare  laugh  at  me,  mad- 
am, 1  will  fell  you  to  the  earth  I" 

She  left  the  room  ;  a  violent  flood  of  tears  relieved 
her,  as  she  knelt  down,  and  cast  her  burden  upon  Him 
who  alone  could  bear  it  for  her,  and  she  met  her  tyrant 
at  dinner  without  one  word  or  look  of  reproach.  At 
length  she  became  a  mother,  a  circumstance  which  but 
added  to  her  miseries,  for  even  the  nursery  was  not 
exempted  from  the  laws  and  regulations  of  Lord  de 
Clifford ;  moreover,  if  ever  she  passed  an  hour  together 
with  her  child,  he  was  sure  to  send  for  her,  saying, 
when  she  appeared, 

"  There  is  nothing  now  thought  of  but  that  child, 
while  your  duty  towards  me  is  totally  neglected,  madam. 
I  desire  you  may  not  fool  away  all  your  time  in  that 
d — d  nursery." 

Then  his  mother  was  to  be  courted  and  consulted  upon 
all  occasions,  not  from  affection,  but  because  she  was 
rich,  and  had  much  in  her  power ;  but,  though  humbly  so- 
licited, she  declined  being  godmother  to  the  child,  aver- 
ring, that  she  never  liked  taking  any  sort  of  responsibil- 
ity upon  herself,  and  that  whatever  she  might  do  hereaf- 
ter must  entirely  depend  upon  circumstances  ;  nor  could 
she,  for  six  years,  be  induced  to  take  the  slightest  no- 
tice of  her  daughter-in-law,  though  she  condescended 
to  interfere  in  the  most  minute  of  her  domestic  arrange- 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  57 

ments  through  the  medium  of  her  son,  and  by  incessant 
fault-finding,  keep  her  in  due  subordination;  as  she 
wisely  concluded  (falling  into  the  common  error  of 
judging  others  by  herself)  that  Lady  de  Clifford  could 
not  be  possessed  of  so  much  beauty  and  so  many  ac- 
complishments without  being  proportionately  arrogant 
and  self-sufficient,  and  therefore  requiring  a  counter- 
poise :  for  which  reason  she  generously  established 
herself  as  that  counterpoise,  and  a  most  disagreeable 
and  effectual  one  she  was.  Julia  had  been  married 
about  eight  years,  the  last  two  of  which  had  been  spent 
on  the  Continent,  whither  they  had  been  led  ;  for  in  her 
husband's  ear 

"  Some  demon  whispered—'  Visto,  have  a  taste.'  " 

"  Virtu"  was  therefore  his  present  mania,  and  his  wife 
was  thankful  that  anything  took  him  from  tormenting 
her,  and  still  more  so  that  he  had  allowed  her  sister  to 
come  abroad  with  her ;  an  indulgence  he  might  not 
have  granted,  had  he  not  deemed  that,  by  so  doing,  he 
should  extend  his  empire  to  a  slave  the  more.  It  was 
at  this  juncture  that  Mowbray  came  to  Milan ;  he  soon 
discovered  Lord  de  Clifford's  foible  of  wishing  to  ap- 
pear a  man  of  science,  letters,  taste,  and  universal  in- 
formation ;  and  therefore,  adopting  the  plan  of  the  witty 
and  clever  Lady  M.  with  regard  to  her  dolt  of  a  lord, 
who  had  never  in  his  life  been  guilty  of  thinking  a  good 
thing,  much  less  of  saying  one,  when  Lord  de  Clifford 
had  been  particularly  ponderous,  used  always  to  preface 
some  brilliant  or  wise  remark  atdiimer  with,  "  1  think  it 
was  you.  Lord  de  Clifford,  who  told  me  this  morning  such 
and  such  a  thing  ;"  or,  "  I  think  it  was  you  who  so  justly 
observed  so  and  so  ;"  or,  "  as  you  very  wittily  remarked 
a  while  ago ;"  by  which  scheme,  he  so  completely  in- 
gratiated himself  with  his  pompous  tool,  that  he  issued 
a  standing  order  to  his  wife  to  be  particularly  civil  to 
Mr.  Mowbray,  as  he  was  a  young  man  of  infinite  judg- 
ment and  discernment.  From  this  commenced  a  new 
epoch  in  Ladyde  Clifford's  life:  though  time  and  expe- 
rience had  annihilated  the  hope  of  ever  softening  her 
husband  towards  her,  it  had  not  subdued  her  habit  of  en- 
durance. Many  and  bitter  were  the  tears  that  this  out- 
ward restraint  cost  her ;  but  from  the  time  of  her  ac- 
quaintance with  Mowbray,  it  cost  her  less  to  bear  the 
imkindness  of  her  husband,  for,  in  fact,  she  dwelt  on  it 


58  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

less ;  a  void  seemed  filled,  she  knew  not  how,  in  her 
heart ;  she  never  felt  the  tears  gush  to  her  eyes,  as  for- 
merly, when  she  looked  at  the  happy  faces  of  Fanny  or 
Savilie,  or  heard  their  little  tender  speeches  to  each 
other.  She  liked  Mowbray — nay,  she  longed  for  his  ap- 
pearance of  a  day ;  but  she  set  all  this  down  to  the  score 
of  gratitude — he  was  so  kind,  so  gentle,  so  attentive  to 
her ;  he  remembered  her  most  trifling  wishes,  nay,  more, 
he  anticipated  them  :  how  good,  how  condescending 
this  was  of  one  who  was  the  "  enfan  gate"'  of  London ! 
Poor  Lady  de  Clifford  !  a  woman  may  be  so  brutalized 
and  subdued  by  ill-treatment  from  the  one  who  should 
be  the  last  in  the  world  to  be  guilty  of  such  inhumanity 
towards  her,  as  to  become  grateful  for  the  civility  of  a 
sweep  in  moving  out  of  her  way  in  the  street;  and  at 
this  pass  had  Julia  arrived ;  for  one  of  her  servants  could 
not,  in  the  routine  of  their  business,  put  a  chair  out  of 
her  way,  but  that  she  felt  indebted  to  them  as  though 
they  had  conferred  an  obligation  upon  her.  How  much 
more,  then,  did  she  feel  the  incessant,  the  delicate,  the 
devoted  attention  of  a  man  like  Mowbray,  whose  tones 
were  gentle  in  speaking  to  any  woman,  but  when  ad- 
dressing her  became  perfect  music  1  Once,  and  only 
once,  she  asked  herself  if  she  did  not  like  him  too  much  ; 
but  she  blushed  crimson  at  the  thought,  and  seemed  to 
think  the  prudery  of  her  imagination  had  insulted  the 
purity  of  her  heart  by  the  question.  Thus  poor  Lady 
de  Clifford  was  hastening  to  the  same  precipice  as  Mow- 
bray, though  by  a  very  different  channel ;  for  while,  ta- 
king innocence  for  her  guide,  she  was  led  into  danger 
from  the  ignorance  of  her  steersman  of  the  invisible 
shoals  and  quicksands  that  abound  in  the  perilous  sea 
of  passion,  he  was  steering  headlong  to  destruction, 
with  knowledge  of  the  world  for  his  chart,  false  hope 
for  his  rudder,  and  his  own  wayward  and  ungoverned 
heart  for  a  compass. 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  59 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Child.  Hey  diddle,  diddle, 

The  cat  and  the  fiddle — 

Mother.  Thee  ought  not  to  say  that,  Mary  ;  for,  Hey  diddle,  did- 
dle, has  no  meaning. 

Child.  The  cat  and  the  fiddle, 

The  cow  jump'd  over  the  njoon — 

Mother.  Slop  !  thee  may  say  the  cat  and  the  fiddle,  if  thee  pleas- 
es ;  but  do  not  say  the  cow  jumped  over  the  moon — say  the  cow 
jumped  under  the  moon  :  for  thee  should  know  that  a  cow  cannot 
jump  over  the  moon,  though  it  may  jump  under  the  moon. 

Child.  The  little  dog  laugh'd  to  see  the  sport — 

Mother.  What,  Mary  !  a  dog  laugh  !  Thee  should  not  say  so  ; 
for  thee  knows  a  dog  cannot  laugh  :  thee  might  say  the  little  dog 
barked,  if  Ihee  pleases. 

Child.  While  the  di.sh  ran  after  the  spoon. 

Mother.  Mary!  Mary!  how  can  a  dish  run?  Does  thee  not 
know  that  a  dish  has  no  legs  to  run  with  ?  Thee  should  have  said, 
the  dish  and  the  spoon." — Utilitarian  Philosophy  for  Nurseries  and 
Noodles. 

One  morning,  as  Lord  de  Clifford  was  preparing  to 
sally  out.  to  meet  an  Armenian,  from  whom  he  was  to 
purchase  some  pseudo  Etruscan  manuscripts,  a  single 
hieroglyphic  of  which  he  could  not  decipher,  his  little 
girl  was  sitting  playing  with  her  doll,  and  lecturing  Zoe 
for  her  mercurial  propensities,  as,  one  after  another, 
she  purloined  first  the  doll's  shoe,  and  then  its  neck- 
lace, and  decamped  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  to 
play  with  them;  and  little  Julia,  having  often  felt  the 
beneficial  effects  of  moral  poetry  upon  herself,  began 
repeating  to  Zoe  the  ancient,  though  somewhat  preju- 
diced and  illiberal,  madrigal  of 

"  Taffy  was  a  Welshman,  and  Taffy  was  a  thief;" 

when  her  stately  sire  interrupted  her  with,  "  Julia,  you 
are  much  too  old  to  have  your  head  crammed  with  all 
those  ignorant  vulgarities  ;  and,  with  a  little  application, 
you  would  find  it  quite  as  easy  to  learn  something  use- 
ful. For  instance,  Taffi  was  not  a  Welshman,  but  an 
Italian  poet,  born  at  Genoa,  in  the  year — " 

"  Oh !  yes,  I  know  all  that,  papa,"  said  the  little  girl, 
interrupting  in  her  turn ;  "  at  least,  he  was  an  Italian 


60  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

painter,  born  at  Florence  in  1213;  and  he  and  Cimabue 

brought  the  taste  for  Mosaic  into  Italy.  Mrs.  Mang- 
nall's  question-book  has  that  in  it ;  but  the  Italian's 
name  is  spelt  T-a-f-f-i ;  and,  indeed,  papa,  my  Taffy 
was  a  Welshman,  and  he  really  did  steal  a  bone  of  beef, 
as  I  was  going  to  tell  Zoe,  and  his  name  is  spelt  with 
a  y;  and  I  don't  believe  he  was  any  relation  at  all  to 
Taffi  the  Italian,  though  I  don't  know  what  time  my 
Taffy  was  born  ;  as  Mrs.  Mangnall's  book  don't  say, 
which  I  am  surprised  at." 

"  Lady  de  Clifford,"  cried  her  enraged  husband,  "  that 
child  has  become  insufferably  pert  and  forward,  and 
you  had  better  check  it  in  time,  or  take  the  consequen- 
ces, madam." 

So  saying,  he  left  the  room,  slamming  the  door  vio- 
lently after  him. 

"  Ha !  ha  !  ha !"  laughed  Fanny,  who  had  been  draw- 
ing at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  "  La  pruova  d'un 
opera  serial" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  Fanny,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  he  will 
hear  you,"  said  her  sister;  "besides,  you  should  not, 
before  Julia." 

"  Ma  foi !"  said  Fanny,  throwing  herself  back  in  her 
chair,  and  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  which  she 
had  fairly  laughed  into  them  :  "  Ce  qui  fait  le  malheur 
des  uns,  fait  le  bonheur  des  autres,  c'etait  impayable. 
Come  here,  darling,"  continued  she  to  little  Julia,  and 
taking  the  child's  head  in  both  her  hands,  said,  kissing 
her  forehead  "  con  amore" — "  Ju,  you  were  a  very 
naughty  girl  to  interrupt  your  papa  so,  just  now,  when 
he  was  instructing  you,  and  so,  to  punish  you,  I'm  going 
to  send  you  of  a  message.  Go  up  stairs,  and  tell  Luton 
to  send  me  down  that  box  of  pencils  I  got  from  Eng- 
land the  other  day ;  and  then  go  and  ask  Mademoiselle 
d'Antoville  if  she  will  have  the  goodness  to  lend  me 
that  print  she  has  of  Attila." 

"  Ah !  but  that's  no  punishment  at  all,"  said  the  child ; 
"  for  I  like  doing  anything  for  you,  aunt  Fanny,"  and 
away  she  ran. 

"  Now  I  hope  you  perceive,  my  dear  Julia,"  said 
the  incorrigible  Fanny,  bursting  into  a  fresh  fit  of  laugh- 
ter, "  the  error  you  have  been  guilty  of  in  allowing  Ju 
to  learn  her  ABC  too  fast.  However,  what  is  done 
cannot  be  helped ;  but  I  hope,  for  the  future,  you  will 
manage  better.    Let  me  see — she  ia  now  seven ;  so,  if 


THE  MAN  OP    HONOUR.  61 

"we  can  but  contrive  to  make  her  forget  the  best  part  of 
what  she  has  learned,  and  prevent  her  knowing  more 
at  fourteen  than  she  ought  to  know  now,  she  may  then 
have  the  happiness  of  becoming  a  suitable  companion 
for  her  father;  and  who  knows  but  that,  in  time,  she 
may  even  retrograde  to  a  level  with  his  extraordinary 
mind  ?" 

"  Ah  !  Fanny  !  Fanny !"  said  her  sister,  shaking  her 
head,  "it  is  no  laugliing  matter." 

"  No,  indeed,  I  don't  think  it  is,"  said  Fanny ;  "  but, 
as  Lord  Byron  says, 

"  '  Strange  though  it  seem,  yet  with  extremest  grief 
Is  hnk'd  a  mirth  that  doth  not  brmg  relief !' 

And  I  can  only  say,  as  poor  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville 
said  to  me  the  other  day"  (and  liere  Fanny  put  her  hands 
into  the  pockets  of  her  apron,  bent  her  head  forward, 
and  her  brows  into  a  thoughtful  frown,  and  changed  her 
voice  and  face  so  completely  into  that  of  Mademoiselle 
d'Antoville,  that  even  Lady  de  Clifford's  gravity  gave 
way  as  she  repeated) — "  I  can  only  say,  as  Mademoi- 
selle d'Antoville  said  to  me  the  other  day,  '  Milord  a 
tant  de  science  !  tant  de  profondeur  !  que  quand  il  debi- 
te  sur  le  chapitre  de  I'education;  jamais,  jamais  je  ne 
puis  lui  comprendre !" 

"  Poor  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville,"  said  Lady  de  Clif- 
ford ;  "  I  do  not  half  like  her  as  an  instructress,  now 
Julia  is  growing  older ;  there  is  too  much  of  the  old 
novel  style  of  F'rench  governess  about  her.  She  seems 
too  thoroughly  imbued  with  what  may  be  termed  the 
apocalypse  of  the  old  regime  in  France,  namely, '  Qu'ou 
pen  tout  dire  et  tout  faire,  pourvu  qu'on  le  fait  et  le 
dit  poliment ;'  and  my  fear  is,  that  in  time  she  may  con- 
vert, or  rather  pervert,  Julia  to  the  same  creed." 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Fanny  ;  "  but  you  know  it  is  not 
every  one  that  is  OEdipus  enough  to  discover  that  '  Mi- 
lord a  tant  de  science  et  tant  de  profondeur,  &c.,  &c., 
&c. ;  et  quand  il-y'a  des  sots  a  triple  etage.'  There 
must  be  flatterers  to  clamber  up  to  the  heights  of  their 
folly ;  and  you  may  depend  upon  it,  that  my  illustrious 
brother-in-law  finds  too  many  charms  in  the  conversa- 
tion of  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville  (who  can  alone  appre- 
ciate his  wonderful  talents  !)  to  part  with  her  for  your 
sake,  or  Julia's  either  ;  except,  indeed,  that  in  time  he 
may  find  an  equivalent  in  Mr.  Mowbray,  who  seems  to 
Vol.  I.— F 


62  CHEVELET  ;     OR, 

have  borrowed  D'Antoville's  powers  of  listening,  and 
all  her  craft,  and  more  than  all  her  talent,  in  conveying 
to  him  an  idea  of  his  own  great  and  paramount  supe- 
riority in  all  things.  However,  '  blessed  be — be  the 
peace-makers,'  say  I,  and  I'm  sure  we  have  all  led  a 
much  happier  life  for  the  last  two  months,  since  Mr. 
Mowbray  has  kindly  taken  upon  himself  the  arduous 
office  of  inflating  the  balloon  of  Lord  de  Clifford's  vani- 
ty ;  and  I  feel  so  grateful  to  him,  that  I  have  serious 
thoughts  of  working  him  a  waistcoat,  as  a  slight  tribute 
of  esteem  and  respect — as  the  corporations  have  it, 
when  they  give  dinners  and  snuffboxes  to  ministers 
and  patriots  out  of  place  !" 

Lady  de  Clifford  had  got  as  far  as  "  Fy,  fy,  Fanny !" 
in  a  lecture  to  her  laughter-loving  sister,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  Mowbray  and  Saville  were  announced. 

"  We  were  just  talking  about  you,  Mr.  Mowbray," 
said  Fanny. 

"  About  me !"  said  Mowbray,  glancing  quickly  at 
Lady  de  Clifford's  blushing  and  confused  face  :  "  and 
how  came  I  to  be  so  honoured  1" 

"  I  was  wondering,"  replied  Fanny,  "  whether  there 
were  any  prizes  for  patience  at  Harrow ;  and,  if  so,  how 
many  you  gained  in  a  week." 

"  You  speak  in  riddles,  my  fair  sibyl,"  said  Mowbray ; 
"pray  expound  them." 

"  All  in  good  time,"  laughed  Fanny ;  "  I  will  bring 
you  my  books  when  they  are  ready,  that  is,  if  you  will 
promise  to  purchase  them  '  coute  qu'il  coute,'  at  the 
first  offer." 

"  I  promise,"  said  Mowbray,  lifting  up  his  hand  with 
mock  solemnity  ;  and  then  turning  to  Lady  de  Clifford, 
added,  "  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  what  Miss  Neville 
means  ]" 

"  That  would  be  difficult,"  said  Lady  de  Clifford,  smi- 
ling, "  for  I  do  not  believe  she  knows  herself." 

At  this  moment  little  Julia  returned,  and,  seeing  Mow- 
bray, ran  up  to  him.  "  Oh !  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  she, 
"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !  How  is  Prince  ?  and  where 
is  he  ■?  I  have  got  a  story  to  read  to  him ;  for  do  you 
know,  the  other  day,  when  I  was  at  dinner,  he  came  in, 
and  I  went  into  the  next  room  for  something  I  had  for- 
gotten, and  I  left  Prince,  telling  him  to  be  sure  and  not 
eat  up  all  my  dinner,  and  he  promised,  as  plain  as  a  dog 
could  promise,  with  his  big  brown,  honest-looking  eyes, 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  63 

that  he  would  not;  but  though  I  was  only  gone  two 
minutes,  when  I  came  back  all  my  beccaficas  were 
gone,  and  he  had  just  got  his  paw  in  the  maccaroni ! 
and  now  I'll  get  the  story  I  am  going  to  read  him." 

At  any  other  time  Lady  de  Clifford  would  have  beg- 
ged Julia  to  postpone  the  perusal  of  it  till  Prince  was 
there  to  hear  it ;  but  as  Fanny  and  Saville  were  now 
engaged  in  a  low  t^te-a-tete  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  she  was  glad  of  any  circumstance  that  would 
prevent  her  and  Mowbray  being  reduced  to  the  same  al- 
ternative, especially  as  he  stood  leaning  on  the  matel- 
piece  in  one  of  those  fits  of  abstraction  that  had  so 
often  taken  possession  of  him  lately,  when  all  around 
appeared  lost  to  him,  while  his  eyes  seemed  as  if  they 
had  been  given  to  him  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  riv- 
et them  upon  her. 

"  Well,  get  the  book,  Cara,"  said  her  mother,  with 
one  of  those  April  smiles  that  only  are  called  in  to 
struggle  with  a  tear,  "  and  let  us  see  how  you  mean  to 
reform  Prince's  morals." 

The  little  girl  took  a  small  case  of  books  off  the  table, 
and  seating  herself  at  her  mother's  feet,  said,  "  Now, 
mamma,  you  need  not  listen  so  much,  but  you,  Mr.  Mow- 
bray, must  be  very  attentive,  because  it  is  for  the  good 
of  your  dog.     The  story  is  called, 

"  '  LE  CHIEN  DE  LIVERPOOL. 

"'Un  fermier  de  Liverpool,  avait  un  chien  plein  de 
courage,  d'intelligence,  et  d'autre  belles  qualites,  mais 
qui  avait  un  defaut  que  rien  ne  pent  excuser :  m6me 
dans  les  chiens  :  il  manquait  3e  probite'  Now,  do 
you  imderstand  what  that  means,  Mr.  Mowbray?"  con- 
tinued she,  pushing  him  with  her  little  foot;  "do  you 
hear  me  ?  '  le  chien  du  fermier  manquait  de  probite ;' 
do  you  understand !" 

"Yes,"  said  Mowbray,  biting  his  lip  and  withdrawing 
his  eyes  from  Lady  de  Clifford ;  "  it  means  that  he 
was  not  fit  to  be  trusted  ;  what  a  miserable  dog  he  must 
have  been !"  and  then,  as  if  all  security  consisted  in 
sound,  he  cried  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice  across  the 
room,  "  Saville,  do  you  recollect  whether  it  was  to- 
morrow or  Wednesday  that  De  Clifford  fixed  upon  for 
going  to  Como  ?  for  <Aa<  was  what  I  came  here  with  you 
to  find  out." 

Oh !  human  nature,  where  begin  and  where  end  thy 


64  cheveley;  or, 

wayward  mysteries  !  Lady  de  Clifford,  who  a  moment 
before  would  have  given  anything  that  Mowbray  had 
not  come  that  morning,  now  felt  that  sharp  pain  dart 
through  her  heart  which  wounded  pride  and  sudden 
disappointment  coming  together  invariably  occasion. 
"  Surely,"  thought  she,  "  he  need  not  take  such  pains 
to  annoiuice  that  his  oitly  motive  in  coming  here  was  to 
ascertain  Lord  de  Clifford's  will  and  pleasure!  It  is, to 
say  the  least  of  it,  unkind — I  mean,  rude ;  nay,  almost 
impertinent  of  him !" 

"  Really,"  said  Saville,  in  reply  to  Mowbray's  ques- 
tion, "  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  it  was  to-morrow  the 
party  was  to  take  place."  And  again  turning  to  Fanny, 
he  dropped  his  voice  into  the  low,  whispering  tone 
from  which  his  friend's  interrogatory  had  roused  him. 

"  Do  you  know?"  inquired  Mowbray  of  Lady  de  Clif- 
ford, feeling  that  it  was  necessary  to  say  something, 
and  not  knowing  very  well  what  to  say. 

"  I  really  do  not,"  said  she.  coldly,  "  as  this  is  the 
first  time  I  have  heard  of  the  arrangement ;  but  as  it  is 
to  be  a  duo,  I  suppose  Lord  de  Clifford  will  let  you  know 
in  time;  at  present,  he  is  out  for  the  day,  I  believe." 

"  A  duo  !"  said  Mowbray,  looking  as  seriously  alarm- 
ed as  if  he  had  been  in  quarantine,  and  a  black  spot 
had  suddenly  appeared  on  his  arm.  "  Good  Heavens! 
No  ;  you — 1  mean,  I  thought — I  understood — that  we 
were  all  going — " 

"Oh!  perhaps  so,"  replied  Lady  de  Clifford,  "but  I 
have  heard  nothing  about  it;  however,"  continued  she, 
looking  across  the  court,  "  there  is  Lord  de  Clifford  go- 
ing up  the  steps  to  Julia's  schoolroom.  Fanny,  as  you 
are  near  the  window,  just  tell  Dorio,  whom  I  see  standing 
in  the  yard,  to  tell  his  master  that  Mr.  Mowbray  wants 
to  speak  to  him." 

"  Pray  do  not  trouble  yourself.  Miss  Neville,"  said 
Mowbray,  springing  forward ;  "  any  other  time  will  do  as 
well." 

But  Fanny,  whose  head  was  already  out  of  the  win- 
dow, giving  her  sister's  message  to  Dorio,  did  not 
hear  him.  An  awkward  pause  now  ensued,  at  least  it 
would  have  been  such  to  Mowbray,  if  he  had  not  sud- 
denly discovered  that  Tiney's  nose  was  very  hot,  and 
declared  that  the  dog  could  not  be  well. 

"  Poor  Ti.,"  said  he,  kissing  her  head  and  stroking 
her  long  silken  ears,  "  I'm  sure  she  is  ill.    I  wish,  Lady 


THE  MAN  or    HONOUR.  65 

de  Clifford,  you  would  let  me  have  her  for  a  week :  I 
have  a  groom  who  is  a  famous  dog-doctor ;  he  shall 
prescribe  for  her,  and  Til  administer  all  the  medicines 
myself;  and,  above  all,  I'll  promise  to  love  and  to  pet 
her  as  much  as  you  do." 

*'  Oh  !  that  would  be  impossible,"  said  she,  laughing. 

"  Besides,"  chimed  in  Julia,  "  Prince  might  eat  her 
up  at  a  mouthful,  as  he  did  my  beccaficas  ;  and  I'm  sure 
Zoe  teases  her  quite  enough  as  it  is,  poor  dog  !" 

Lord  de  Clifford  not  making  his  appearance,  and  no 
message  having  been  returned  to  the  one  sent,  Lady  de 
Clifford  now  rang  to  inquire  the  reason  of  it ;  the  ser- 
vant in  waiting  was  despatched  to  Dorio,  and  returned 
with  the  answer  that  Lord  de  Clifford  was  not  yet  come 
home. 

"  Not  come  home !  that  is  impossible.  Send  Dorio 
here."  Dorio  came  and  made  the  same  reply:  the 
whole  party  looked  at  each  other  with  unfeigned  aston- 
ishment, and  asked  almost  simultaneously,  "  Who,  then, 
was  it  that  went  up  the  opposite  steps  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago,  when  you  stood  by  the  lion  at  the  foot  of 
them  ?" 

"  C'etait  riiomme  d'affaire  de  Mademoiselle  d'Anto- 
ville,"  replied  the  immoveable  Dorio,  twitching  the  ring 
in  his  right  ear.  "  That  fellow,"  said  Savifie,  as  he 
shut  the  door,  "  must  have  been  for  a  long  time  primo 
buffo  at  the  San  Carlino,  to  tell  a  lie  with  such  consum- 
mate genius  and  such  inimitable  composure." 

The  carriage  was  now  announced,  and  the  two  friends 
were  obliged,  "  malgre  eux,"  to  take  their  departure. 
Mowbray,  however,  contrived  to  make  himself  happy 
by  carrying  off  Tiney,  and  a  bunch  of  violets  that  Lady 
de  Clifford  had  dropped ;  and  Saville  whispered  in  Fan- 
ny's ear,  "  Am  I  to  dine  here  to-day,  dearest  V  "  Why, 
as  that  is  a  matter  of  business,"  said  she,  laughing, 
"you  must  ask  Thomme  d'affaire  de  Mademoiselle 
d'Antoville!'" 

F8 


66  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  You  have  a  head,  and  so  has  a  pin." 

IVursery  Compliment, 

"  We  glide  o'er  these  gentle  waters 

As  through  ether  skims  the  dove  ; 
Yet,  fairest  of  beauty's  daughters, 

I  may  not  breathe  my  love  ; 
But  while  the  happy  breezes  play, 

And  kiss,  and  whisper  round  thee, 
Dearest,  ah  !   will  they  not  betray 

The  mysteries  they  have  found  thee 
For  their  wild  breath  is  but  my  sighs. 

Which  are  but  fond  thoughts  of  thee, 
That  escape  to  gain  the  skies. 

Where  they  may  aye  immortal  be !" 

MS. 

"  L'aria  e  la  terre  a  I'acqua  son  d'amor  piene." 

Petrarca. 

Lord  de  Clifford,  who,  among  his  other  talents,  had 
a  wonderful  turn  for  petty  economy,  had  been  for  the 
last  six  weeks  deeply  absorbed  in  Professor  Autenrieth's 
plan  for  making  bread  out  of  deal  boards  ;  he  had  actu- 
ally got  as  far  as  the  sawdust,  and  procured  a  quantity 
of  marsh-mallow  roots.  Such  abstruse  and  scientific  la- 
bours required  relaxation;  and  Mademoiselle  d'Anto- 
ville,  who  had  not  found  the  least  difficulty  in  persua- 
ding him  that  he  distanced  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  in 
science,  Tycho  Brae  in  astronomical  lore,  and  Bayle  in 
general  knowledge,  found  it  equally  easy  to  convince 
him  that  the  exercise  of  such  a  monopoly  of  talents 
might  be  fatal,  if  unrelieved  by  the  "  otium  cum  digni- 
tate"  that  should  accompany  them ;  consequently  the 
excursion  to  Como  was  proposed  by  her,  as  one  of  a 
series  to  take  place  for  that  purpose.  Saville  drove 
Fanny  in  his  phaeton,  the  Seymours  (who  were  of  the 
party)  good-naturedly  gave  Monsieur  de  Rivoli  a  seat 
in  their  carriage,  while  Ladyde  Clifford's  was  occupied 
by  herself,  her  sposo,  Mowbray,  and  Mademoiselle 
d'Antoville,  who  devoted  herself  to  appreciating  Lord 
de  Clifford.    They  had  not  got  above  half  way,  before 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  67 

mademoiselle  began  to  purse  up  her  mouth,  close  her 
drab-coloured  eyes,  and  inchne  her  head  faintingly  to- 
wards his  shoulder,  at  which  Lady  de  Clifford  offered 
her  "  vinaigrette,"  intending  to  request  she  would 
change  places  with  her,  as  she  feared  tliat  sitting  with 
her  back  to  the  horses  might  have  occasioned  her  in- 
disposition ;  but  before  she  had  time  to  utter  one  word, 
her  husband  seized  her  extended  hand,  and  dragging 
her  rudely  from  her  seat,  placed  his  grammatical  in- 
amorata in  it,  exclaiming,  "  Do  you  not  see  she  is  ill 
from  sitting  backward  V 

"  I  was  just  going  to  offer  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville 
my  seat,"  said  poor  Lady  de  Chfford,  trying  to  sup- 
press the  tears  that  had  come  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  are  always  going,"  sneered  her  amiable 
lord. 

Mowbray,  who  could  hardly  contain  his  indignation 
at  this  scene,  caught  himself  mechanically  changing  his 
place  to  the  one  beside  her,  which  her  husband  had  va- 
cated to  watch  over  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville ;  and, 
throwing  a  shawl  over  her,  he  pressed  her  hand  in  both 
of  his  as  he  said,  "  Good  heavens  !  I  hope  you  won't 
suffer  from  sitting  here ;  the  wind  is  so  much  more 
keen  than  at  the  other  side." 

Julia's  face  crimsoned  as  she  withdrew  her  hand  ; 
her  heart  was  too  full  for  utterance ;  but  Mowbray 
thought  he  had  never,  for  the  greatest  service  he  had 
conferred  on  another,  been  so  amply  repaid,  as  when 
her  eyes  for  one  moment  met  his,  as  she  drew  the 
shawl  he  had  given  more  closely  about  her.  Mean- 
while mademoiselle,  after  labouring  a  few  minutes  like 
a  steam-engine,  thought  fit  to  open  her  eyes,  and  rais- 
ing her  head  from  Lord  de  Clifford's  slioulder,  where  it 
had  unconsciously  rested,,murmured,  or,  rather,  shrieked, 
in  a  "Theatre  Fran(;ois'  tone,"  "Ah,  ^'est  toiT'  to 
which  he  responded,  with  undeniable  truth  and  brevity, 
"  Oui,Q'est  moi !"  The  fair  sufferers  next  thought  was 
for  her  dress;  and  carefully  arranging  her  shawl  and 
bonnet,  which  had  not  been  in  the  least  deranged  du- 
ring \\er feint,  she  exclaimed,  "Ah,  mon  Dieu!  comme 
je  me  suis  abime !"  Then  suddenly  recollecting,  that 
although  she  was  Lord  de  Clifford's  Aspasia,  she  was 
also  his  wife's  governess,  she  turned  to  the  latter  to 
apologize  for  having  turned  her  out  of  her  place,  and  to 
beg  she  would  retake  it. 


68  CHEVELBY  ;    OR, 

"  Oh,  d — n  it !  she'll  do  very  well  where  she  is,"  said 
her  kind  and  affectionate  spouse,  before  she  had  time  to 
decline  mademoiselle's  proffered  politeness. 

When  tliey  reached  the  little  inn  at  Como,  they  found 
the  rest  of  the  party  had  arrived  before  them,  and  had  or- 
dered the  boats  and  luncheon,  to  which  latter  they  were 
doing  full  justice — all,  except  poor  Monsieur  de  Rivoli, 
who  was  warring  with  the  moschetoes,  and  trying  to 
make  the  same  bargain  with  them  that  Polyphemus  did 
with  Ulysses  ;  namely,  that  they  would  devour  him  the 
last.  At  length,  even  his  "  occupation  was  gone,"  and 
they  all  descended  to  embark  upon  certainly  the  most 
lovely  lake  in  the  world.  Oh,  the  deep  beauty  of  its 
silent  waters,  glassing  on  their  diamond  surface  the  fair 
and  gemlike  beauties  of  its  sunlit  margins!  The  wind 
had  gone  down ;  not  a  breath  seemed  to  kiss  the  leaves 
or  dimple  the  tide,  which  lay  like  a  sleeping  child  be- 
neath ;  it  was  one  of  those  hushed  and  balmy  days,  that 
give  a  luxury  to  the  happy  by  shedding  over  them  a 
melancholy  that  is  purely  imaginative  ;  that  melancholy 
which  gives  a  poetry  to  every  feeling,  because  it  springs 
from  no  harsh  reality ;  while,  to  the  miserable,  such  days 
seem  as  if  Nature  had  returned,  like  a  long-absent  friend, 
to  sooth  and  atone  to  them  for  the  unkindness  of  Fate. 
The  hghthearted  and  properous  can  never  worship  Na- 
ture with  the  incense  of  the  heart — gratitude ;  for  to 
them,  the  softest  air,  the  brightest  skies,  the  sweetest 
flowers,  are  but  so  many  minor  adjuncts  in  the  gorgeous 
pageant  of  their  destiny ;  but  to  the  crushed  heart,  the 
burning  brain,  the  warped  and  withered  mind,  the  moral 
Cain  who  has  been  the  fratricide  of  his  own  welfare, 
every  look,  and  breath,  and  tone  of  hers  comes  like  a 
good  Samaritan ;  healing  what  others  smote,  fostering 
what  others  deserted,  rescuing  what  others  endangered, 
e'en  the  wayward  and  erring  spirit  of  man,  and  at  length 
leading  it  "  through  nature  up  to  nature's  God."  Alas ! 
alas !  why  is  it  that  so  many  of  us  must  be  rejected  of 
earth  ere  we  can  think  of  heaven  ]  Why  is  it  that  re- 
ligion is  so  often  only  resorted  to  as  an  elixir  for  worldly 
disappointments  1  why  is  it  that  we  follow  the  example  of 
the  heathen  Agrippa,  who,  when  Augustus  refused  to 
accept  of  the  dedication  of  the  Pantheon,  then,  and  not 
till  then,  consecrated  it  to  all  the  gods  of  Olympus  1 

What  a  pantheon  is  the  human  heart !  rejected  by 
one,  only  to  be  filled  with  innumerable  still  vainer  idols, 


I 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  69 

and  at  last,  perhaps,  in  its  best  stage,  mistaking  the  gor- 
geous and  poetical  pomps,  the  Catholicism  of  the  pas- 
sions, for  the  pure  and  undefiled  Cliristianity  of  the 
soul !  But  the  reason  of  this  mistake  is  clear  :  "  They 
will  tarry  by  the  roadside,  hearing  talcs  of  the  fountain, 
instead  of  repairing  straight  to  the  fountain  itself,  there 
to  drink  of  its  waters."  If  even  the  metaphysics  of  Aris- 
totle are  so  mystified  ;  if  the  peripatetic  doctrines  are 
so  perverted  through  their  commentators  (including 
Cicero,  the  cleverest  of  them),  how  much  more  must 
Christianity  have  suffered  from  the  same  source  ?  inas- 
much as  it  being  of  a  divine,  and,  consequently,  of  more 
simple  origin,  it  is  more  easily  perverted  through  hu- 
man and  complex  means  ;  and  the  most  dangerous  per- 
versions of  all  are  the  perversions  of  those  natures  which 
have  an  innate  craving  after  right;  for  then  begins  the 
self-deluding  sophistrj-  which  tries  togerme  a  wrong  act 
with  a  good  motive.  At  this  state  had  Mowbray  ar- 
rived: he  had  repeated  to  himself  so  often  that  it  was 
only  common  humanity  to  pay  Lady  de  Clifford  every 
possible  attention,  neglected  and  ill-treated  by  her  hus- 
band as  she  was,  that,  instead  of  trying,  as  he  had  at 
first  done,  to  check  his  feelings  of  compassion  towards 
her,  he  made  a  point  of  yielding  to,  and  encouraging 
them  on  all  occasions;  and,  after  the  scene  in  the  car- 
riage, he  thought  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  take  as  much 
care  of  her  as  possible  for  the  rest  of  the  day;  indeed, 
she  had  fallen  to  his  share  ;  Fanny  and  Saville  having, 
of  course,  paired  off;  and  INIonsieur  de  Kivoli  determin- 
ing, what  little  time  he  could  spare  from  smoothing  the 
rugged  path  of  his  mustaches,  and  humming  snatches  of 
"  Sulinargine,"  "  Le  Suisse  au  bord  du  lac,"  "  O  Pesca- 
tor,"  the  *'  Biondina,"  and  other  appropriate  tunes,  as 
they  call  "  Non  nobis  Domini"  when  it  is  played  at  a 
lord-mayor's  feast,  to  devote  himself  to  eradicating  from 
Mrs.  Seymour's  mind  certain  ignorant  prejudices,  which 
her  speech  about  Marie  Louise  gave  him  reason  to  fear 
she  entertained. 

Mr.  Seymour,  like  a  true  Englishman,  had  fastened 
upon  Count  C,  and  had  dragged  him  back  to  Boodles 
and  the  House  of  Commons ;  while  Lord  de  CHfford, 
after  having  first  placed  one  of  his  wife's  shawls  under 
Mademoiselle  d'Antoville's  feet,  was  explaining  to  her 
(preparatory  to  their  landing)  all  about  Pliny  the  elder 
and  Pliny  the  younger ;  while  she,  though  expressing 


70  CHBVELEY ;    OR, 

wonder  and  gratitude  for  his  information,  was  in  reality 
wishing  that,  like  the  former,  he  had  perished  in  the  de- 
struction of  Pompeii,  and  then  he  could  not  have  prosed 
her  to  death  as  he  was  doing. 

Little  Julia  had  been  left  at  home  with  her  grandmo- 
ther, who,  for  once,  had  had  the  mercy  not  to  inflict  her 
company  on  them. 

"  Permettez  V  said  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  as  they  land- 
ed, offering  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Seymour,  who  proposed 
that  they  should  go  over  the  grounds  before  they  went 
into  the  villa. 

"  Car  je  ne  voi  pas,"  added  slie,  laughingly  pointing 
to  her  husband's  tall  figure,  as  he  lingered  in  the  boat, 
with  one  of  the  poor  count's  buttons  still  in  his  custody, 
which  stood  a  fair  chance  of  being  Schedule  A'd.  "  Je 
ne  voi  pas  pourquoi  je  devoit  perdre  mon  temp  parce- 
que  j'ai  epousee  un  grand  homme  !" 

"  Ah  !  dat  is  ver  true  ;  I'm  glad  you  have  come  to  my 
fancy  at  last,"  said  her  companion,  pressing  her  arm, 
and  gently  smoothing  his  off  whisker.  "  '  Mais  voyez 
done,'  "  continued  he,  looking  at  Lord  de  Clifford  and 
his  charge,  as  they  entered  the  house.  " '  Comme  ce 
grand  bete  De  Clifford  est  entrainee  par  cette  loup  ga- 
rou  de  D'Antoville  qui  n'est  pas  mfeme  franc^aise,  car 
elle  naquit  a  Berne  je  le  s'^ai  moi.'  " 

"  It  is  really  extraordinary,"  said  Mrs.  Seymour,  "  and 
Lady  de  Clifford  so  very  handsome." 

"  '  C'est  vrai,  mais  ;  c'est  sa  femme  !'  "  said  Monsieur 
de  Rivoli,  with  a  "probatum  est"  shrug;  for  there  was 
a  Madame  de  Rivoli  extant,  though  seldom  heard  of  and 
never  seen. 

Mrs.  Seymour  laughed,  and  they  strolled  on  under 
the  colonnade  by  the  margin  of  the  lake,  her  "  cice- 
roni" thinking  how  lucky  she  was  that,  every  one  having 
gone  in  a  different  direction,  they  were  left  to  a  "  t^te- 
a-tete." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  get  a  glass  of  water  V  said  Lady 
de  Clifford,  after  she  and  Mowbray  had  walked  on  for 
some  time  in  one  of  those  awkward  fits  of  silence 
which  both  wished,  yet  dreaded  to  break,  and  which  had 
occurred  so  frequently  of  late. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mowbray,  "  and  the  very  best  wa- 
ter in  the  world ;  for  the  spring  is  as  cold  and  as  clear 
as  when  its  quondam  owner  first  wrote  its  panegyric 
some  eighteen  hundred  years  ago ;  but  I  fear  you  wiil 


THB    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  71 

find  the  ascent  of  those  old,  narrow,  broken  steps  very 
steep  and  fatiguing." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Julia,  "  for  in  this  country 
one  is  so  used  to  difficulties,  that  I  think  one  could  climb 
a  rope-ladder  to  the  moon." 

"  Then  pray  lean  on  me,"  said  Mowbray,  giving  his 
arm,  which  he  had  not  offered  before ;  and  then  another 
pause  ensued,  till  they  had  reached  the  end  of  those 
almost  interminable  steps,  and  stood  beside  the  bright, 
cold,  diamond  spring,  where  an  old  woman  filled  a  glass 
from  it  and  presented  it  to  Lady  de  Clifford.  She  drank 
half  of  it,  and  gave  back  the  glass  to  the  crone  ;  she 
was  on  the  point  of  tlirowing  the  remainder  of  the  wa- 
ter away,  in  order  to  refill  the  glass  for  Mowbray,  who, 
perceiving  her  intention,  snatched  it,  and  drank  off  the 
contents,  which  having  done,  he  paid  the  woman,  and 
told  her  she  might  go.  Then  came  another  pause, 
whicli  he  felt  ought  to  be  broken  ;  luckily,  he  recollected 
the  curiosity  he  had  often  felt  to  ascertain  the  cause  of 
Julia's  evident  embarrassment  whenever  he  had  men- 
tioned Herbert  Grimstone's  name,  and  her  constant  en- 
deavours to  avoid  the  subject ;  he  thought,  now  that  no 
third  person  was  present,  it  would  be  a  good  opportu- 
nity of  ascertaining  wlielher  his  dislike  was  connected 
solely  with  her  husband's  presence,  or  whether  it  arose 
from  any  mere  personal  aversion  of  her  own ;  and  hav- 
ing heard  Lord  de  Clifford  say  that  he  expected  him 
shortly  at  Milan,  he  thought  the  best  way  of  broaching 
the  subject  would  be  to  ask  her  when  he  was  coming. 

"  Do  you  not  expect  Grimstone  here  shortly  V  inquired 
he,  fixing  liis  eyes  on  her  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  in  a  few  days ;  and,  now  you  mention  him," 
continued  Lady  de  Clifford,  blushing  deeply  at  her  own 
weakness  in  wishing  to  vindicate  lierself  to  Mowbray, 
"  I  have  a  request — that  is,  I  mean  you  must  have 
thouglit  it  very  strange,  that  whenever  you  have  men- 
tioned him  before  Lord  de  Chfford,  I  have  changed  the 
subject ;  but  the  reason  was,  that  you  have  always 
coupled  his  name  with  a  sort  of  laugh  against  him,  and 
— and — " 

"And,"  interrupted  Mowbray,  more  vehemently  than 
good-breeding  warranted,  "  you  are  so  fond  of  your  for- 
tunate and  meritorious  brother-in-law,  that  you  cannot 
bear  to  hear  him  laughed  at  1" 

"  Far  from  it ;  I,  of  all  poople,  have  no  reason  to  be 


72  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

fond  of  him ;  but  Lord  de  Clifford  is  always  angry^ 
that  is,  annoyed,  if  any  one  laughs  at  him,  and  there- 
fore I  try  to  prevent  it." 

"What  goodness!  what  delicacy!  what  angelic  sweet- 
ness !  what  undeserved  amiability  on  your  part !"  said 
Mowbray,  thrown  off  his  guard,  and  hurried  by  admira- 
tion of  a  character  he  began  to  think  faultless,  into  an 
expression  of  feehngs  he  had  never  meant  to  give  ut- 
terance to. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Julia,  crimsoning  to  her  temples,  while 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  what  she  felt  to  be  "praise 
undeserved,"  "  it  is  not  goodness,  it  is  not  amiability, 
it  is  not  what  you  think  it,  and  what  it  ought  to  be,  a 
wish  solely  to  please  my  husband;  but  it  is  that  he 
would  be  angry  with  me;  that  he  has  forbidden  me  ever 
to  join  in  any  jest  against  his  brother." 

If  Mowbray  had  before  admired  her  for  her  supposed 
highwrought  goodness,  he  now  still  more  admired  the 
unflinching  integrity  which  made  her  humble  herself 
into  disclaiming  all  free-will  in  a  right  line  of  conduct, 
rather  than  for  a  moment  purchase  admiration  by  the 
base  coin  of  deceit  and  hypocrisy ;  but  the  words  "  my 
husband"  grated  disagreeably  on  his  ear ;  she  had 
never  before  used  them ;  they  sounded  like  a  knell  to 
warn  him  off  his  perilous  and  unhallowed  course.  Hith- 
erto everything  she  had  affixed  the  word  "  my"  befor*^ 
he  had  loved  for  her  sake  ;  the  tempter  had  now  turned 
traitor,  and  stood  forth  to  warn  and  to  denounce.  It 
might  have  done  both  in  vain,  so  strong  was  his  im- 
pulse, as  he  looked  at  Julia's  pale  and  agitated  face, 
to  fling  himself  at  her  feet,  and  there  pour  out  all  the 
burning,  maddening  feelings  that  were  battling  at  his 
heart ;  but  the  reflection,  or,  rather,  the  conviction,  that 
by  so  doing  he  would  seal  his  own  eternal  banishment, 
restrained  him. 

So  true  is  it  what  Madame  de  Stael  says,  that  "per- 
haps it  is  what  we  shall  do  to-morrow  that  will  decide 
our  fate ;  perhaps  even  yesterday  we  said  some  word 
that  nothing  can  recall !" 

Mowbray  felt  this,  though  there  were  too  many  con- 
flicts struggling  within  him  to  think  it ;  but,  as  far  as  the 
passions  are  concerned,  is  not  feeling  always  the  ste- 
nography of  thought  ?  He  therefore  determined  to  say 
nothing  of  her,  but  replied  with  as  disembarrassed  an 
air  as  he  could  assume, 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  73 

"  Then  I  am  sure  his  overweening  fraternal  afTection 
is  but  ill  requited,  for  I  have  heard  Grimstone  not  only 
laugh  at,  but  abuse  him  in  no  measured  terms." 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  is  so  much  affection  as  pride," 
said  Julia,  "  that  makes  Lord  de  Clifibrd  not  allow  a 
word  to  be  said  against  his  brother,  as  they  certainly 
cannot  be  said  to  be  fond  of  each  other;  indeed, brought 
up  as  they  have  been,  it  is  impossible  they  should.  Left 
at  an  early  age  to  the  sole  guidance  of  a  not  ovcrwise 
mother,  with  much  wealth  in  her  power,  her  constant 
endeavour  has  been,  not  to  gain  their  affection  and  re- 
spect from  principle  and  merit  on  her  own  part,  but  to 
secure  their  attention,  and  enforce  their  submission, 
from  the  sordid  and  selfish  motive  of  anticipated  gain. 
Consequently,  when  the  elder  offends  her,  she  invaria- 
bly doubles  her  show  of  kindness  and  promises  to  the 
younger;  so  that  the  well-being  of  the  one  is  unavoid- 
ably made  a  source  of  discontent  and  fear  to  the  other ; 
and  as  this  terrible  system  was  begun  in  childhood, 
when  every  httle  gift  or  indulgence  that  was  granted  to 
the  reigning  favourite  was  sealed  with  a  stipulation  that 
it  was  to  be  a  profound  secret  from  the  less  fortunate 
brother,  it  is  no  wonder  that  those  three  essential  ingre- 
dients in  every  relationship  of  life,  frankness,  confi- 
dence, and  sincerity,  should  be  wanting  between  them. 
Indeed,  on  the  part  of  Herbert,  I  think  his  union  with 
his  brother  is  solely  a  political  one :  he  wants  in  him- 
self that  singleness  of  motive  and  firmness  of  purpose 
which  invests  even  erroneous  principles  and  bad  meas- 
ures with  an  artificial  respectability,  the  respectability 
of  consistency.  Consequently,  whatever  point  he  steers 
for,  having  no  intrinsic  resources,  he  will  always  be 
obhged  to  be  towed  to  it  by  the  exertions  of  another, 
which  will  be  the  sole  motive  of  his  adherence  to  any 
one." 

"  You  seem  to  know  him  well,  at  all  events,"  replied 
Mowbray ;  "  for  within  the  last  ten  yeai'S  I  have  seen 
him  an  Ultra-toiy,  next  an  'in  medio  tutissimus  ibus' 
Whig,  and  now  he  is  a  pioneering  '  hie  et  ubique'  Radi- 
cal. However,  to  do  him  justice,  he  is  the  most  'prom- 
ising young  man  of  his  age,  for  his  promises  and 
professions  are  boundless  ;  but  if  you  only  wanted  him 
to  walk  across  the  street,  he  would  fail  you.  These 
sort  of  professors  are  in  the  moral  world  what  Bahr- 
bella-ma,  the  waterless  sea  of  the  Libyan  desert,  is  in  the 
Vol.  L— G 


74  CHEVELEY  ;     OR, 

geological  one,  which  has  all  the  appearance  of  a  large 
ocean  without  containing  a  single  drop  of  water  ;  they 
want  nothing  but  realily  to  satisfy  one." 

"You  are  severe  upon  him." 

"  Nay,  for  severe,  read  true ;  I  know  of  nothing  to 
his  credit,  and  therefore  can  say  nothing." 

*'  You  forget  his  debts,'"  said  Julia,  smiling. 

"  True,"  rephed  Mowbray,  "  in  which  point  I  resem- 
ble him,  for  no  one  appears  so  completely  forgetful  of 
them  as  himself.  But  a  truce  to  the  puppy,  for  it  is 
time  to  think  of  a  far  nobler  animal — Tiney,  who,  I 
am  happy  to  tell  you,  passed  a  good  night,  ale  a  good 
breakfast,  and  has  got  a  nose  as  cold  as  the  North 
Pole." 

"  Thank  you.  Doctor  Mowbray ;  then  I  suppose  she 
may  return  to  her  disconsolate  parent  to-morrow." 

"  Not  so  ;  a  relapse  might  be  fatal,  and  I  cannot  part 
with  her  yet.' 

"  How  I  wish,"  said  Julia,  stooping  to  pluck  a  water- 
lily  that  grew  inside  the  spring  by  which  they  still 
lingered,  "  that  I  had  sent  some  of  those  large,  lotus- 
like, Rhine  water-lilies  to  England  !" 

"  Would  that  all  your  wishes  could  come  so  easily 
within  the  sphere  of  my  powder !"  said  Mowbray.  "  An 
old  German  friend  of  mine,  Madame  de  Heidleberg, 
sent  me  some  three  years  ago,  which  are  nov/  flourish- 
ing at  Hilton,  and  I  will  order  some  to  be  cvnt  Jown  \o 
Grimstone  the  next  time  I  write  to  Engiaxid."  He 
then  repeated,  in  a  low  voice, 

"  I  send  the  lilies  given  to  me  ; 

Though  long  before  thy  hand  they  touch, 
I  know  that  they  must  wither'd  be, 

But  yet  reject  them  not  as  such. 
For  I  will  cherish  them  as  dear, 

Because  they  yet  may  meet  thine  eye, 
And  guide  thy  soul  to  mine  even  here. 

When  thou  behold'st  them  drooping  nigh. 
And  knowst  them  gather'd  by  the  Rhine, 
And  ofter'd  from  my  heart  to  thine  !" 

Julia  blushed;  but  determining,  from  the  pointed 
manner  in  which  these  words  were  uttered,  not  to  take 
them  to  herself,  said,  "  How  beautiful  the  whole  of  that 
canto  of  Childe  Harold  is !"  and  then  went  on  reciting 
the  next  stanza. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  75 

"  The  river  nobly  foams  and  flows, 

The  charm  of  this  enchanted  ground. 
And  all  its  thousand  turns  disclose 

Some  fresher  beauty  varying  round  : 
The  haughtiest  breast  its  wish  might  bound 

Through  life  to  dwell  delighted  here ; 
Nor  could  on  earth  a  spot  be  found 

To  nature  and  to  me  more  dear." 

Here  she  paused,  recollecting  the  concluding  lines. 

"  Pray  go  on,"  said  Mowbray,  riveting  his  eyes  upon 
her. 

"  I  forget  the  rest,"  stammered  Julia. 

Her  companion  took  up  the  "  refrain,"  as  she  turned 
away  to  hide  her  confusion. 

"  Could  thy  dear  eyes  in  following  mine, 
Still  sweeten  more  these  banks — " 

"  Not  of  Rhine !"  murmured  he  with  a  low  voice,  al- 
most imperceptibly  pressing  the  arm  linked  in  his, 
which  was  hastily  withdrawn  under  the  pretext  of 
gathering  some  of  the  wild  vcrbinum,  which  grows  in 
such  profusion  on  that  enchanted  ground. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Julia,  "  where  they  can  have  all 
gone  toT  We  had  better  go  and  look  for  them,  and, 
indeed,  I  am  tired,  so  we  will  go  into  the  house." 
They  descended  as  they  had  ascended  the  steps,  in 
perfect  silence.  On  reaching  the  house,  they  found 
the  whole  party,  except  Lord  de  Clifford  and  Made- 
moiselle d'Antoville,  assembled  in  the  large  barnlike 
saloon,  making  themselves  very  merry  at  the  expense 
of  the  daubs  of  pictures  that  decorate  its  walls.  Mon- 
sieur de  Rivoli  was  engaged  in  copying  one  of  them 
(Diana  and  Endymion)  on  the  back  of  his  hat,  and 
bestowing  the  physiognomy  of  the  absentee  pair  upon 
them ;  so  that  the  goddess  appeared  in  her  infernal  char- 
acter of  Hecate,  while  the  profile  of  the  sleeping  shep- 
herd made  no  bad  imitation  of  the  crescent  on  the  brow 
of  his  inamorata ;  the  moonbeam  kiss  he  had  managed 
to  portray  by  a  knitting-needle  emanating  from  the 
hay-coloured  hair  of  the  D'Antoville  Diana,  and  termi- 
nating in  the  mouth  of  Endymion.  Fanny,  who  was 
enchanted  with  the  likenesses,  begged  to  have  the  ori- 
ginal, of  which  she  promised  to  make  some  faithful 
copies. 

*'  Let  me  see,"  said  Julia,  putting  out  her  hand  for  the 
paper. 


76  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  No,  no,"  said  Fanny,  "  you  are  not  to  be  trusted. 
There,"  continued  she,  placing  it  in  her  bosom  : 

"  Deep  in  my  soul  that  tender  secret  dwells, 
Lonely  and  lost  to  sight  for  everoiore  ; 
Save  when  some  laugh  to  mine  responsive  swells, 
Then  trembles  into  silence  as  before.'  " 

"  Look  liere,"  said  Mrs.  Seymour,  taking  an  old  man- 
dolin from  the  window-seat,  "  I  have  found  a  treasure. 
I  wonder  if  any  one  can  play  upon  it.  Can  you  ?  or 
you !  or  you  !  or  you !"  holding  it  to  every  one  till 
she  came  to  Count  C,  who,  confessing  that  he  did 
play  upon  it  "a  little,"  was  instantly  besieged  for  a 
song.  When  he  had  succeeded  in  tuning  the  crazy  old 
instrument,  he  good-humouredly  sang  Aurelio  Bertola's 

"  Gli  occhi  azzurri  e  gli  occhi  neri." 

"  Bene  !  bene  !  "  echoed  from  every  side. 
And  Saville  repeated  the  last  four  lines,  as  he  looked 
into  Fanny's  bright,  laughing,  hazel  eyes  : 
"  11  primato  in  questi  o  in  quelli 
N on  disdende  dal  colore; 
Ma  quegli  occhi  son  piU  belle 
Che  nspondono  pii  al  core." 

Lord  de  Clifford  and  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville  now 
made  their  appearance  in  a  most  deplorable  condition ; 
the  latter  drenched  to  her  waist,  her  drapery  clinging 
like  a  second  Andromeda  about  her,  and  her  hair  dishev- 
elled according  to  the  most  orthodox  standard  of  heroic 
misfortune.  His  lordship  appeared  to  have  been  au 
equal  sufl'erer,  being  almost  as  wet,  and  minus  a  hat; 
so  that  he  had  been  fain  to  twist  a  shawl  of  mademoi- 
selle's round  his  head  "  a  la  Turc,"  which  gave  him  a 
compound  look  of  fun  and  ferocity  that  was  irresistible 
to  every  one  but  Lady  de  Clifford,  v/ho  dared  not  join 
in  the  laugh  that  accompanied  the  queries  addressed  to 
the  disconsolate  pair,  as  to  the  how,  Avhen,  and  where 
of  their  misfortunes.  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville  (for  a 
French  Avoman,  however  "pale  et  defaite,"  is  never 
speechless)  undertook  to  enlighten  them. 

"  Nous,  nous  promenons,  milord  et  moi  on  de  bord 
of  de  rivere,  just  talk  of  la  petite  Julie,  when,  all  at 
once,  j'ai  faite  un  faux  pas"  ("  Sans  doute,"  muttered 
Monsieur  de  Rivoli ;  "  et  je  parais  que  e'en  est  pas  le 
premier"),  "  and  I  am  tumble  into  de  vatere,  and  but  for 
le  courage  of  milord,  I  was  sure  I  am  to  be  drowned !" 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  77 

"  Well,"  said  Saville,  who  always  stepped  forward  as 
risible  mediator  for  the  whole  party,  "  the  only  differ- 
ence between  you  and  me  is  the  difference  that  Daniel 
de  Foe  said  existed  between  James  the  First  and  Charles 
the  First ;  namely,  that  yours  was  a  tvet  martyrdom,  and 
mine  has  been  a  dry  one ;  for  I  have  been  dying  of 
thirst  these  two  hours." 

Every  one  was  now  at  liberty  to  laugh — even  Julia — 
which  was  a  great  relief  to  her. 

"  Did  you  tumble"  (she  chose  the  word  as  the  most 
undignified  she  could  think  of) — "  did  5'ou  tumble  into  the 
water,  too,  then  !"  asked  Fanny,  as  she  walked  round 
her  mildewed  brother-in-law,  with  her  glass  up,  mi- 
nutely examining  the  damage  he  had  sustained  by 
"flood  and  field." 

"  No,  Miss  Neville,  I  did  not  tumble  into  the  water ; 
gentlemen  never  tumble." 

"  They  sometimes  fall,  then,"  interrupted  Fanny, 
"like  statues  from  their  pedestals,  or  thunderbolts 
from  the  clouds." 

"  I  merely  stretched  out  my  hand  to  rescue  Mademoi- 
selle d'Antoville,  who  had  had  the  misfortune  to  slip 
from  the  margin ;  and  in  rescuing  her,  I  lost  my  hat 
and  got  dreadl'uUy  splashed." 

"  Dreadfully  indeed,"  said  Fanny,  "  for  it  has  a  strong 
family  likeness  to  an  immersion  and  a  tumble." 

"  You  will  oblige  me,  Miss  Neville,  by  not  using  that 
vulgar  word,  coupled  with  any  circumstance  relating  to 
me." 

Fanny  was  about  to  reply,  when  an  imploring  look 
from  her  sister  checked  her.  The  old  woman  was  then 
invoked,  who  procured  a  quantity  of  straw,  sticks,  and 
fern,  and  as  soon  as  the  inhospitable  old  chimney  could 
be  coaxed  into  letting  them  burn,  mademoiselle  and  her 
"  preux  chevalier"  contrived  to  dry  their  weeping  gar- 
ments ;  after  which,  a  long  discussion  ensued  between 
Monsieur  de  Rivoli  and  Lord  de  Clifford  as  to  whether 
it  was  likely  to  rain  or  not :  the  former  maintaining  the 
wind  was  in  the  north,  therefore  it  could  not  rain  ;  the 
latter  protesting  that  it  was  in  the  south,  and,  conse- 
quently, that  it  must  rain  ;  appealing  to  Mowbray  as 
umpire,  who  Jesuitically  answered  in  the  words  of 
Pliny :  " '  In  totum  venti  omnes  a  septentrione  siccio- 
res  quam  a  meridie.' "  * 

*  Lib.  2d,  cap.  47. 
G  2 


78  ciieveley;  or, 

"  Ah,  yes,  var  true,"  said  Monsieur  de  Rivoli ;  "  but 
you  must  first  prove  dat  de  wind  he  is  in  de  scut ;  now 
I  say  he  is  in  de  nort.  What  you  say,  Ma'mselle  d'An- 
toville  ■?  you  dat  know  ever3'ting,"  added  he,  ironically. 
"  Sans  doute  je  suis  de  votre  avis,"  retorted  the  lady, 
bitterly  ;  "  car  je  ne  dispute  pas  les  vents,  avec  un  Gi- 
rouette." 

Lord  de  Clifford  indulged  in  a  horse  laugh  at  made- 
moiselle's wit  and  the  discomfiture  of  his  antagonist. 
The  boats  were  then  ordered,  and  the  party  returned  in 
the  same  order  they  came.  On  reaching  Milan,  they 
found  the  amiable  dowager  not  in  the  most  agreeable 
humour  at  having  been  kept  waiting  dinner ;  her  hair 
was  more  frizzed  over  her  eyes  than  usual,  and  she  sur- 
rounded every  one  with  a  perfect  "  chevaux  de  frise"  of 
vulgar  ceremonies,  two  invariable  signs  that  all  was  not 
right.  She  met  them  on  the  landing-place,  and  after 
having  cried,  "  a  haute  voix,"  "  Now,  dinner  directly!" 
said,  in  a  voice  more  of  anger  than  anxiety,  "  Dear  me ! 
what  could  have  kep  you,  eh,  my  dear  !"  taking  her 
son's  hand,  and  totally  disregarding  everybody  else. 
"  It  was  vastly  imprudent  of  you  staying  so  late  ;  I  have 
been  quite  frightened  about  you,  and  these  here  stupid 
Italian  people  could  not  give  any  account  of  you." 

Fanny,  who  delighted  in  drawing  her  out,  and  used  to 
take  her  off  to  her  face  without  her  ladyship's  being  a 
bit  the  wiser,  now  stepped  forward,  and  said,  "  Oh,  all 
sorts  of  disasters  have  /icp  us  :  first,  Mademoiselle  d'An- 
toville  fainted  'en  route;'  next  she  fell  into  the  water; 
Lord  de  Chflbrd  had  to  get  her  out." 

"  Bless  me  !  you  surely  did  not  go  into  the  water,  my 
dear,  I  hope  ?"  said  his  tender  mother,  again  taking  his 
hand. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Fanny,  "he  stood  on  '  terra  firma,' 
only  stretching  out  his  hand  to  rescue  mademoiselle." 

"  Hem !  vastly  good  of  you,  I'm  sure,  my  dear,  and 
does  great  credit  to  your  head  and  hort;''^  and  then  turn- 
ing to  the  heroine  of  the  tale,  she  extended  a  hand  to 
her,  anxiously  expressing  a  hope  that  she  had  not  suf- 
fered from  her  accident,  and  assuring  her  that  there  was 
nobody  that  Lord  de  Chfford  had  a  greater  respect  and 
regard  for. 

Now  all  this  was  said  before  Julia,  and  this  amiable 
and  judicious  mother  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  species 
of  regard  her  son  entertained  for  mademoiselle ;  but  she 


THE   MAN    OF    HONOUR.  79 

pretended  not  to  be  so,  and  that  did  just  as  well ;  be- 
sides, thanks  to  a  most  Gorgon  cast  of  countenance,  she 
had  always  preserved  an  immaculate  character  for  per- 
sonal propriety ;  and,  therefore,  who  dare  impugn  her 
morality/?  And  just  now  she  was  in  want  of  her  son's 
services,  in  adjusting  rather  an  oblique  transaction  be- 
tween herself  and  one  of  her  tenants,  the  justice  of 
the  case  hanging  on  the  farmer's  side.  Therefore  she 
would  not  for  the  world  displease  him  to  whom  she  was 
alternately  tyrant  and  slave,  as  their  relative  positions 
miglit  require ;  and  this  it  was  that  made  the  moral  op- 
thalmia  necessary  which  she  now  thought  tit  to  assume 
as  to  the  D'Antoville  business. 

She  even  carried  her  dreadful  hypocrisy  to  such  a 
pitch,  that  she  would  frequently  say  to  Julia,  "  You  see, 
Lady  de  Clifford,  that  though  George  is  not  one  of  those 
sort  of  fondling,  kissing  fathers,  he  is  so  properly  anx- 
ious about  the  little  gurH  (for  she  seldom  adopted  the 
familiarity  of  calling  her  Julia),  "that  he  passes  a  great 
deal  of  his  time  with  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville,  to  see 
that  the  method  she  pursues  is  the  right  one." 

Upon  all  which  occasions,  resentment,  contempt,  and 
disgust  had  a  Iiard  struggle  in  poor  Lady  de  Clifford's 
mind ;  but  against  the  fearful  odds  of  a  whole  family, 
and  such  a  family,  what  could  she  do  1  What  she  did 
do  ;  bear  it  till  her  heart  was  near  breaking.  While  the 
dowager  was  still  busy  condoling  with  and  compliment- 
ing Mademoiselle  d'Antoville,  Julia,  who  unremitting- 
ly pursued  the  "  noiseless  tenour  of  her  way,"  stole  up 
stairs  and  told  Dorio  to  put  his  master's  things  to  the 
fire.  Finding  he  did  not  follow,  she  went  down  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  to  tell  him  that  he  had  better  change 
his  things.  She  found  him  closeted  "  tete-a-t^te"  wilh 
his  mother  in  the  anteroom.  The  latter  instantly  rose 
on  her  entrance,  and  coming  forward  with  one  of  her 
apologetic  speeches  and  vulpine  smiles,  said, 

"  I  was  talking  to  George,  Lady  de  Clifford,  about  this 
here  disagreeable  business  of  the  Rushworth  Farm,  and 
old  Jenkins's  impertinent  letter;  you  see  I  treat  you 
quite  '  eng  fomille,''  "  detaining  George. 

Julia  merely  bowed  in  reply  to  this  elegant  harangue^ 
and  turning  to  her  husband,  said, 

"  1  am  afraid  you  will  get  cold,  remaining  in  those 
damp  clothes,  and  all  your  others  are  ready  aired  up 
stairs," 


80  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

A  sneer  and  a  frown  were  the  only  reply  of  her  ten- 
der and  wellbred  lord.  Then  commenced  his  mother's 
entreaties : 

"  Now,  do,  my  dear,  pray  do,  change  your  things ! 
it  is  so  dangerous  to  sit  in  damp  clothes  ;  besides,  it  is 
not  gallant  towards  the  ladies  to  dine  in  these."  Nei- 
ther the  maternal  tenderness  nor  the  facetious  polite- 
ness of  these  entreaties  produced  any  other  result 
than  a 

"  D — n  it !  don't  teaze  me,  ma'am  ;  I'm  tired,  and  my 
clothes  are  not  damp." 

In  order  to  drown  these  gracious  sounds,  she  turned 
to  Julia  with  another  low  smile,  and  hoped  that  she 
would  excuse  the  great  anxiety  of  a  mother  for  her 
son's  health ;  which  anxiety,  however,  had  never  man- 
ifested itself  during  the  debate  upon  Jenkins  and  the 
Rushworth  farm  ;  or,  indeed,  till  poor  Julia  had  come  to 
tell  him  his  things  were  at  the  fire ;  but  with  some  for- 
tunate individuals,  words,  like  civility,  cost  nothing  and 
purchase  everything. 

The  rest  of  the  party  having  dressed  and  assembled 
in  the  drawing-room,  dinner  was  announced,  the  privi- 
leged master  of  the  house  taking  his  seat  in  his  soiled 
and  crumpled  morning-dress,  without  either  comment 
or  apology  to  any  of  his  guests. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  Man  proposes,  but  God  disposes. 
Many  can  pack  the  cards  that  cannot  play  them." 

"  Ut  sementem  feceris  ita  metes." 

Old  Proverb. 

Lord  de  Clifford's  mother  had  been  an  heiress,  of 
remarkably  plain  person,  forbidding  manners,  and  irras- 
cible  temper,  who  had  "  withered  on  the  virgin  thorne" 
till  six-and-twenty,  when  she  thought  it  would  be  a  pity 
to  "  die  and  leave  the  world  no  copy,"  and  so  conde- 
scended to  bestow  her  hand  upon  Colonel  Grimstone, 
who,  after  having  ran  himself  completely  out  by  divers 
excesses,  made  up  his  mind,  at  the  end  of  five  years,  to 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  81 

the  "  pis  aller"  of  taking  her  for  better  or  for  worse ; 
and  found  her,  as  the  Irishman  said,  much  worse  than 
he  took  lier  for  ;  for  between  her  and  tlie  broad  lands 
which  had  been  his  bait,  stood  her  fatlier,  who  was  so 
unaccommodating  as  not  to  die  till  twelve  jears  after 
their  marriage,  so  that  the  poor  colonel,  who  only  sur- 
vived that  event  six  years,  quitted  the  world  without  his 
errand,  as  some  hinted,  from  the  daily  dose  of  this  un- 
gilded  pill. 

He  was  a  frank,  open,  profligate,  and  somewhat  ty- 
rannical man  ;  but  then,  conjugal  tyranny  had  been  a 
sort  of  heirloom  in  his  family  for  eight  hundred  years  ; 
so  that  "  Tyrus,"  an  originial  family  name,  had,  in  the 
course  of  years,  been  corrupted  into  the  popular  curren- 
cy of  "  Tyrant ;"  a  title  that  every  male  branch  of  the 
Grimstones  rather  gloried  in  than  otherwise,  it  being 
among  the  very  few  of  their  well-merited  honours.  The 
colonel,  who  also  rejoiced  in  it,  only  suited  the  action 
to  the  word  at  home,  for  abroad  he  was  the  very  pink 
of  good  fellows,  a  sort  of  whipper-in  to  all  the  fun  and 
frolic  about  town ;  for  in  those  days,  when  vice  had  no 
masquerades,  people  did  not,  as  now,  "  travaille  trop 
pour  la  Gazette  ;"  but  then,  to  be  sure,  there  were  no 
Sunday  newspapers,  to  make  it  nccessaiy  for  every 
profligate  to  wish  to  pass  for  a  Platonist,  and  make  the 
world  believe, 

"Qu'il  s'eveille,  qu'il  se  l^ve,  qu'il  s'habille  et  qu'il  sort, 
Qu'il  rentre,  qu'il  dine,  qu'il  soupe,  qu'il  se  couche  et  qu'il  dort." 

"  Et  voila  tout."  No !  a  man's  vices  then  were  a  part 
of  the  apanage  of  his  rank  in  life  ;  so  that  many  were 
compelled  to  make  a  great  display  on  very  small 
means. 

Colonel  Grimstone  was  a  personal  friend  of  Charles 
James  Fox :  he  had  packed  the  jury  for  him  in  his  ac- 
tion for  debt  against  Home  Tooke ;  nay,  he  had  done 
more  ;  he  had  trembled  for  his  personal  safety,  when 
Burke,  in  his  celebrated  speech  on  the  impeachment  of 
Warren  Hastings,  said,  while  Sheridan  stood  on  one 
side  of  him  and  Fox  on  the  other,  that  "  Vice  incapaci- 
tates a  man  from  all  public  duty  ;  it  withers  the  powers 
of  his  understanding,  and  makes  his  mind  paralytic." 
He  thought  the  insult  so  personal,  that  his  illustrious 
friends  must  have  taken  notice  of  it ;  but,  to  his  great 


82  CIIEVELEY  ;    OR, 

relief,  he  found  them,  at  the  close  of  the  debate,  as  heed- 
less and  free  from  paralysis  as  ever. 

But  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  pleasure  alone  was 
his  pursuit ;  no,  he  combined  the  "  utile  dulce,"  and 
proved  his  patriotism  by  raising  a  regiment,  which  he 
sent  out  to  Egjrpt  to  be  cut  to  pieces,  while  he  remain- 
ed at  home,  to  see  tlieir  hard-earned  banners  done  due 
honours  to  in  Whitehall :  and  although  the  Prince  of 
"Wales  had  presented  the  colours  to  the  regiment,  and 
honoured  the  gallant  colonel  with  his  company  at  a 
"dejunee"  afterward,  still  he  was  not  tempted  to  pay 
his  royal  highness  the  compliment  of  adopting  his  mot- 
to of  "  Ich  Dien"  in  his  own  proper  person. 

It  was  at  this  epoch  of  his  life,  in  the  full  tide  of  his 
military  glory,  that  he  "  led  to  the  hymeneal  altar  the 
amiable  and  accomplished  Miss  Elizabeth  Barbara 
Langton  ;"  but  whether  it  was  that  the  lady  was  fonder 
of  war  than  he  was,  or  whether  their  unhappiness  arose 
from 

"  Some  stranger  cause  yet  unexplored," 

it  is  certain  that  their  menage  was  by  no  means  Uto- 
pian, as  it  lacked  that  flitch-of-bacon  unanimity  of  opin- 
ion so  desirable  in  wedded  life,  and  which  can  never 
be  achieved  unless  wives  are  content  to  live  as  they 
must  die,  intestate.  No  sooner  had  Miss  Langton  be- 
come Mrs.  Grimstone,  than  she  found  out  that  she  was 
the  most  devoted  daughter  in  the  world,  and  could  not 
live  without  her  mother,  for  whom,  to  do  her  justice, 
she  had  the  greatest  possible  respect ;  as  that  exem- 
plary parent,  who  had  been  many  years  separated  from 
her  husband,  had,  from  inconceivable  economy,  out  of 
a  very  limited  income,  contrived  to  amass  a  large  for- 
tune ;  all  of  which  she  promised  to  leave  to  whichever 
of  her  daughter's  future  progeny  she  should  like  best. 
This  good  lady  was  what  is  called  a  woman  of  spirit, 
and  such  characters  are  seldom  guilty  of  either  cun- 
ning or  hypocrisy,  as  they  invariably  prefer  carrying 
things  by  storm,  to  gaining  them  by  stratagem ;  and 
though  in  reality  not  a  whit  less  void  of  sense  than  her 
daughter,  her  bluntness  gave  a  sort  of  Brummagem  en- 
ergy to  her  character,  which  often  led  people  into  the 
error  of  thinking  her  a  clever  woman,  and  gave  her 
absolute  dominion  over  the  weak,  vacillating,  low  cun- 
ning  imbecility  of  her  daughter's  mind,  who  never 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  83 

• 

could  perform  the  simplest  act  without  labelling  it  with 
a  false  motive,  for  insincere  people  are  always  cow- 
ards ;  consequently,  if  she  only  wished  a  door  or  a 
window  opened  or  shut,  she  was  sure  to  premise  that 
she  did  so  solely  for  the  sake  of  another.  This  species 
of  gratuitous  dissimulation  became  insupportably  wea- 
risome to  her  husband,  who  at  length  actually  dreaded 
taking  a  second  cup  of  tea,  or  putting  on  a  greatcoat,  if 
she  asked  him  to  do  so,  lest,  in  complying,  he  should  be 
entrapped  into  the,  to  him,  unpardonable  weakness  of 
gratifying  some  covert  wish  of  his  wife's,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  would  have  to  submit  to  the  humiliation  of 
being  apparently  the  obliged  person.  To  speak  truly, 
he  had  as  many  faults  as  most  men ;  but  even  those  in 
which  he  was  deficient,  he  was  sure  to  be  supplied  with 
by  the  penetration  and  spirit  of  his  mother-in-law. 

Previous  to  their  marriage,  his  wife  had  stipulated 
that  she  was  to  pass  every  season  in  London :  he  had 
faithfully  performed  the  compact  for  three  years ;  but 
when  the  fourth  came,  he  was  laid  up  with  the  gout, 
had  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  in  improvements  at 
Grimstone,  and,  in  short,  found  many  other  cogent  rea- 
sons for  remaining  in  the  country ;  all  of  which  plunged 
his  lady  wife  into  an  undispellable  fit  of  sulks,  till  her 
spirited  mother  declared  that  such  tyranny  could  not 
and  should  not  be  borne.  So,  accordingly,  she  and  her 
daughter  took  their  departure  "  sans  ceremonie"  the 
next  morning  for  London,  and  took  a  house  in  Grosve- 
nor  Square,  where  they  unmolestedly  went  to  drums 
and  dinners  for  six  months. 

The  poor  colonel,  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  from 
the  first  shock  of  this  dreadful  innovation  upon  the 
marital  authority  of  the  Grimstones,  began  to  think 
what  deities  he  should  set  up  in  place  of  the  Lares  and 
Penates  which  had  used  him  so  scurvily :  and  he  luck- 
ily recollected  that  there  was  a  dormant  Irish  peerage 
in  the  family,  which  he  might  as  well  revive,  as  the 
only  chance  he  had  now  left  of  lording  it  over  his 
wife  ;  and  he  bestirred  himself  so  expeditiously,  that 
in  less  than  eight  months  the  patent  was  made  out,  and 
he  became  "  Viscount  de  Clifford,  of  the  county  of 
Roscommon,  and  Baron  Portmarnham,  of  Portmarn- 
ham  Castle  ;"  but  he  did  not  long  survive  his  budding 
honours,  for  the  following  year  he  was  gathered  to  his 
fathers,  where  nothing  remained  to  him  of  all  his  pomp 


84  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

but  a  splendid  mausoleum  in  the  family  vault,  and  an 
epitaph  which  (thanks  to  his  widow's  love  of  truth)  did 
not  tell  so  many  falsehoods  as  most  posthumous  pane- 
gyrics do.  Released  from  her  bondage,  Lady  de  Clif- 
ford devoted  herself  to  spoiling  her  children,  quarrelling 
with  her  neighbours,  and  turning  away  her  servants; 
but  lest  the  former  should  prove  too  arduous  a  task  for 
her  own  individual  and  unassisted  labours,  her  mother 
kindly  undertook  to  facilitate  it,  by  taking  her  favourite 
Master  Herbert  under  her  own  especial  care,  and  train- 
ing him  up  to  expect  the  eighty  thousand  pounds  she 
meant  to  leave  him ;  so  that,  by  the  time  he  was  four- 
teen, she  had  indulged  him  into  a  sort  of  domestic  Al- 
exander Selkirk,  who  fancied  himself  "  monarch  of  all 
he  surveyed"  at  school.  When  other  boys  were  con- 
tent with  cherries  and  strawberries,  he  was  fed  upon 
peaches  and  pineapples,  which  he  seemed  to  consider 
his  "  Jure  divino,"  and  therefore  never  shared  either 
with  his  brother  or  his  playfellows.  Money  was  supplied 
to  him  on  an  equally  liberal  scale,  which  produced  the 
good  effect  of  making  him  extravagant  to  the  most 
boundless  excess,  which,  as  it  naturally  increased  his 
selfishness,  prevented  his  ever  deviating  in  his  most  un- 
guarded moments  into  anything  bordering  upon  gener- 
osity, though  he  had  been  often  known  to  purchase  some 
bauble  that  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  from  his  companions 
at  treble  its  value,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  delay 
to  his  becoming  the  possessor,  and  afterward  boasthow 
he  had  assisted  the  seller  when  he  was  in  distress ;  a 
fact  he  was  confirmed  in  by  his  mother's  and  grand- 
mother's invariable  assertion  upon  beholding  all  such 
purchases,  and  hearing  the  sum  he  paid  for  them  :  "  In- 
deed, my  dear  Herbert,  you  are  far  too  generous .'"  Mean- 
while his  brother,  under  maternal  auspices,  was  under- 
going a  different  but  equally  judicious  mode  of  treat- 
ment. Mrs.  Langton,  in  her  usual  spirited  manner,  had 
declared  her  decided  aversion  for  him,  and  her  daughter 
had  too  much  filial  affection  ever  to  differ  from  her 
openly ;  consequently,  with  her  "  protege"  she  was  com- 
pelled to  have  recourse  to  a  species  of  contraband  spoil- 
ing, gauged  by  falsehood  and  deceit,  that  engendered 
in  him  the  selfishness  of  covetousness  and  avarice,  to 
quite  as  great  an  extent  as  the  selfishness  of  profusion 
had  been  fostered  in  his  brother. 
Lady  de  Clifford's  sole  object  was  to  make  up  to  him 


/^ 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  85 

for  his  grandmother's  partiahty  to  Herbert ;  consequent- 
ly, whatever  the  latter  got,  she  was  sure  to  give  him  too, 
but  always  accompanied  with  the  strict  injunction  that 
it  was  to  be  kept  a  profound  secret  from  his  brother 
and  grandmother.  All  this  naturally  made  him  cold, 
stern,  crafty,  and  ambiguous,  and  careful  never  to  allow  a 
glimmering  of  his  designs  to  appear  before  their  execu- 
tion, so  that  he  never  was  seduced  into  honesty  or  be- 
trayed into  candour;  two  circumstances  that  gave  him 
a  fearful  advantage  over  every  one  he  had  any  dealings 
with.  His  grandmother's  ceaseless  invectives  gave  him 
a  morbid  resentment  of  censure,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  his  mother's  eternal  praises  of  everything  he 
said  and  everything  he  did  gave  him  an  equally  mor- 
bid and  insatiable  craving  for  flattery,  which  choked  up 
both  his  intellect  and  his  feelings.  Pride,  one  of  the 
noblest  attributes  of  our  nature  if  properly  directed,  was 
in  him  the  "  overgrown  rank  weed"  of  vulgar  externals, 
inflated  by  egotism  into  the  omnipresence  of  himself, 
and  never  extending  beyond  "  a  local  habitation  and  a 
name." 

His  mother  was  eternally  dinning  into  his  ears  that 
the  Grimstone  estate  (which  his  father  had  left  much 
mortgaged,  and  Avhich  she  had  thrown  into  chancery) 
would,  by  the  time  he  was  of  age,  be  one  of  the  finest 
properties  in  England  ;  and  that  to  it  she  would  add,  at 

her  death,  her  own  place  of  Blichingly,  in shire, 

containing  a  fine  old  castle  and  an  unencumbered  prop- 
erty, in  a  ring-fence  of  thirty  miles  in  circumference. 

But,  alas  !  all  is  not  gold  that  glitters.  Upon  his 
coming  of  age,  the  mortgage  on  the  Grimstone  estate 
remained  almost  entirely  unpaid  off",  and  the  property 
anything  but  improved  from  its  long  slumber  in  chan- 
cery ;  so  that  the  young  heir  commenced  life  as  his  fa- 
ther had  ended  it,  by  being  an  embarrassed  man.  To 
be  sure,  there  was  still  Blichingly  in  perspective — but 
then  his  mother  still  lived ;  it  was  in  her  sole  power 
and  under  her  sole  control ;  and  there  were  such  things 
as  caprices  and  contingencies  in  the  world,  and,  worst 
of  all,  there  was  now  a  bare  chance  of  its  being,  like 
Macedonia  at  the  death  of  Alexander,  divided  among 
many :  for  Herbert  Grimstone  had,  at  the  end  of  five 
years,  ran  through  every  shilling  of  the  eighty  thousand 
pounds  his  grandmother  had  left  him ;  and  with  that 
genius  for  finance  which  had  ever  distinguished  hira, 

Vol.  I.— H 


86  CHEVELEV;    OR, 

he  had  contrived  to  get  ten  thousand  pounds  in  debt 
besides ;  add  to  which,  Lady  de  CUfford  had  accumu- 
lated two  valuable  acquaintances  in  the  Isle  of  Thanet — 
a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tymmons. 

The  male  Tymmons  was  an  attorney,  and  ingratiated 
himself  into  her  ladyship's  good  graces  by  giving  her 
sundry  remnants  of  his  legal  abilities  at  the  cheapest 
possible  rate ;  while  the  female  specimen  made  herself 
extremely  useful  in  the  secret  service  line  of  buying 
bargains,  procuring  chronicles  of  the  kitchen,  and  a 
catalogue  raisonee  of  the  conversation  in  the  ser%'ants' 
hall;  to  say  nothing  of  being  the  triple  substitute  of 
society,  companion,  and  counsellor.  As  her  patroness, 
having    quarrelled  with  her  whole   neighbourhood   in 

shire,  and  closed  her  park  gates  against  the  hounds, 

had  no  troublesome  visiters,  and  as  she  seldom  confided 
her  secrets  to  her  sons,  IMrs.  Tymmons'  sympathizing 
bosom  became  a  safe  repository  for  such  important 
mysteries,  as  whether  John  the  footman  talked  too 
often  to  INIary  the  housemaid,  or  whether  the  bay  rnare 
was  to  be  turned  out  to  grass,  or  the  black  horse  to  be 
sent  to  Tattersall's ;  whether  Lord  de  Clifford  was  to 
be  sent  half  a  buck,  and  Herbert  only  a  haunch,  or  vice 
versa ;  or,  last,  though  not  least,  whether  Anne  had  told 
Martha,  who  had  told  Jane,  who  had  told  Sarah,  who 
had  told  Mrs.  Mince  the  housekeeper,  who  had  told 
Mrs.  Frump,  her  ladyship's  maid,  that  Thomas  had  said 
to  James  at  dinner,  that  the  beer  at  Blichingly  was 
much  weaker  than  what  the  servants  had  at  Lord  Cram- 
well's  ;  for  v/hich  reason  the  aforesaid  Thomas  was  in- 
stantly to  be  discharged,  and  Mrs.  Tymmons  despatched 
upon  a  Diogenes'  mission  in  search  of  an  honest  man, 
which  a  man  capable  of  preferring  one  concoction  of 
malt  and  hops  to  another  certainly  could  not  be  called, 
at  IcLst  when  the  beverage  so  preferred  was  not  brewed 
at  Blichingly. 

Besides,  the  Tymmons  being  justly  proud  of  knowing 
a  viscountess,  and  especially  one  with  so  much  in  her 
power,  was  the  very  triton  of  the  Toadys  ;  and,  by  her 
incessant  deference  and  adulation,  served  to  remind  her 
illustrious  friend  of  her  superior  station ;  otherwise, 
from  the  constancy  and  minuteness  of  her  domestic 
details,  her  ideas  stood  a  fair  chance  of  never  extend- 
ing beyond  a  kitchen-maid  or  a  cabbage-stalk,  as  her 
phraseology  had  already  become  that  of  the  kitchen. 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  87 

But  the  most  formidable  of  all  these  rival  votaries 
in  Lord  de  Clifford's  eyes  was  Herbert ;  for  he  had  not 
only  to  get  his  mother  to  pay  his  debts,  but  also  to  play 
a  bold  stroke  for  Blichingly,  which  still,  however,  stood 
provokingly  forward  in  the  vista  of  his  elder  brother's 
prospects. 

At  this  critical  epoch  he  became  acquainted  with 
Julia  Neville  ;  and  having  taken  a  fancy  to  her,  deter- 
mined, even  at  the  risk  of  losing  Blichingly,  to  marry 
her.  Here  was  noble,  disinterested  generosity  !  which, 
to  her  shame  be  it  said,  .Tulia  never  felt  half  grateful 
enough  for,  though  her  husband  reminded  her  of  it  in- 
cessantly. His  mother  was  for  a  long  time  unappeas- 
able, as  she  thought  she  had  a  right  to  insist  upon  his 
marrj'ing  a  person  with  money ;  however,  to  do  him 
justice,  as  soon  as  his  fancy  was  over,  he  made  every 
atonement  in  his  power  to  his  mother's  outraged  au- 
thority, by  humbling  and  subjugating  his  wife  to  all  her 
vulgar  insolence  and  caprices  as  much  as  possible,  and 
turning  away  his  own  servants  at  her  instigation,  as 
often  as  she  did  hers,  especially  if  they  happened  to  be 
favourites  with  Julia. 

This  amiable  and  exemplary  lady,  whom  her  sons 
voted  a  pattern  of  piety  because  she  went  to  church 
occasionally,  could  repeat  the  creed  out  of  book,  used 
the  word  religion  very  often,  and  subscribed  once  to  the 
Bible  Society,  never  saw  her  daughter-in-law  for  five 
years,  though  she  was  in  the  habit  of  calling  at  her  door, 
while  she  sent  for  her  son  to  visit  her  in  the  carriage  ; 
and  probably  she  might  have  gone  to  her  grave  without 
doing  so,  had  she  not  been  once  dangerously  ill  and  both 
her  sons  abroad ;  whereupon  Julia  wrote,  and  sent  to 
know  if  there  was  anything  she  could  do  for  her.  So 
that,  three  months  after,  chaperoned  by  her  son,  she  paid 
a  visit ;  but  fearing  this  might  be  too  great  an  honour 
for  his  wife.  Lord  de  Clifford  ushered  her  into  the  room 
where  Julia  sat  by  saying,  "  My  mother  has  come  to  see 
the  house !" 

From  that  day,  the  little  remnant  of  peace  Julia  had 
had  was  at  an  end ;  for,  though  the  dowager  was  sicken- 
ingly  civil,  ceremonious,  and  flattering  to  her  face,  yet 
never  did  she  enter  her  house  but  what  she  was  sure 
to  hear  from  her  Imsband  the  same  day  such  speeches 
as  the  following :  "  As  my  mother  says,  how  I  am  thrown 
away  upon  you !"  or, "  As  my  mother  says,  how  extreme- 


88  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

ly  shabby  the  furniture  looks,  though  new  last  year !" 
and,  "  How  foolish  you  must  be  to  keep  such  bad  ser- 
vants I  What  a  difference  between  this  carpet  and  hers 
in  Bruton-street,  which  has  been  down  these  ten  years ! 
But  then  my  mother  is  not  a  fine  lady." 

"  And  perhaps  she  don't  receive  so  often  as  we  do  ; 
or  maybe  you  don't  smoke  in  her  drawing-rooms  1" 
said  Julia ;  but  she  was  soon  silenced  by  an  authorita- 
tive 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  madam !  none  of  your  imperti- 
nence !" 

At  their  marriage  Lord  de  Clifford  had  only  settled 
JE5000  upon  his  wife,  upon  the  plea  of  his  present  em- 
barrassments, and  his  intention  of  doing  more  should 
he  ever  become  the  possessor  of  Blichingly  ;  but,  three 
years  afterward,  one  of  the  trustees  to  her  marriage- 
settlement  having  died,  and  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone  be- 
ing the  only  surviving  one.  Lord  de  Clifford  soon  worked 
upon  his  wife's  compassion,  by  descriptions  of  his  pe- 
cuniary distress,  to  relinquish  that  munificent  sum,  to 
which  arrangement  the  trustee  consented,  without  even 
appealing  to  her  to  know  if  such  was  her  wish. 

The  frequency  of  Lord  de  Clifford's  elections  was  ru- 
inous in  the  extreme,  and  displeased  his  mother  greatly, 
or  rather  the  line  of  politics  he  had  adopted  ;  for  she  be- 
ing, as  she  always  styled  herself, "  a  landed  proprietor," 
thought  it  incumbent  on  her  to  be  a  Tory,  and  therefore 
looked  upon  her  son's  political  principles  as  waifs  upon 
her  manor,  which  she  had  a  perfect  right  to  pound  within 
her  own  pale  of  restriction  whenever  it  was  in  her  pow- 
er to  erect  a  barrier  to  their  career ;  consequently,  no 
electioneering  funds  were  to  be  expected  from  her.  On 
the  contrary,  she  always  made  a  point,  on  those  occa- 
sions, of  withdrawing  the  allowance  she  made  him  in 
consideration  of  the  mortgage  on  the  Grimstone  estate  ; 
and  then  followed,  "  fast  and  fierce,"  reproaches  of  his 
ingratitude  in  going  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  her  who 
had  brought  him  up  so  tenderly  and  so  carefully. 

She  forgot  that  when  she  took  him  to  Eton  he  did  not 
like  the  Kcateon  physiognomy,  and  so  declared  to  Eton 
he  would  not  go.  Nor  did  he,  for  liis  kind  parent  sent  him 
to  Harrow  instead.  At  a  later  period,  upon  his  private 
tutor  finding  fault  with  something  he  had  done,  he  qui- 
etly and  coolly  knocked  him  down!  Then  came  his 
maternal  guardian  angel  and  took  him  away,  saying  she 


THE   MAN    OF    HONOUR.  89 

was  sure  Mr.  Lilburn  (the  tutor)  must  have  insulted  him 
grossly,  and  she  should  expose  him  everywhere. 

Now  causes  will  produce  effects,  and  no  wonder  the 
twig  so  bent  pi-oved  rather  unmanageable  afterward ; 
but  knowing,  as  she  did,  that  an  f]nglish  peerage  was 
Lord  de  Chfford's  "  thought  by  day  and  dream  by 
night,"  she  was  puzzled  beyond  measure  to  divine  w'hy 
he  should  labour  so  indefatigably  to  subvert  the  powers 
that  be,  and  desecrate  all  existing  institutions  ;  for  she 
was  ignorant  of  that  almost  universally  known  truth, 
that  there  is  no  hypocrisy  like  political  hypocrisy;  no 
tyrant  like  a  Democrat ;  and  no  placeman  like  a  patriot. 

Your  true  Liberal  deals  with  the  people  as  Charles  the 
Twelfth  did  with  the  Russians  :  under  the  guise  of  pro- 
tection and  redress,  he  uses  all  his  dexterity  and  adroit- 
ness to  turn  their  own  arms  against  them,  and  instruct 
him  how  to  become  their  conqueror;  when  too  late, 
they  find  their  mistake  in  exclianging  the  harmless  in- 
ertness of  a  King  Log  for  the  active  destructiveness  of 
a  King  Stork. 

Now  Herbert  Grimstone,  on  the  contrary,  had  always 
been  a  stanch  Tory  as  long  as  there  had  been  a  close 
borough  in  existence ;  but  no  sooner  had  they  fallen 
victims  to  the  alphabetical  pestilence  of  schedules  "A" 
and  "  B,"  than  his  political  steps  began  to  limp  about 
upon  the  crutches  of  liberal  Whiggism  ;  steering  timidly 
and  totteringly  between  the  monosyllabic  Scylla  and 
Charybdis  of  "  ay"  and  "  no,"  and  resolutely  shutting 
his  ears  against  the  syren  voices  of  principle  or  consist- 
ency. Demosthenes  said  of  the  Pythian  oracle  that  it 
philippized  ;  and  from  the  moment  the  Reform  Bill  began 
to  thrive,  Herbert  Grimstone  liberalized ;  but  when  it 
and  the  Catholic  question  were  both  carried,  and  "  a 
second  Daniel  came  to  judgment,"  suffocating  the  Brit- 
ish Senate  into  silence  with  "  flowers  of  the  earth,"  and 
dazzling  them  into  blindness  with  gems  of  the  sea,  then, 
and  not  till  then,  Herbert  Grimstone  radicalized. 

And  who  could  blame  him?  His  grandmother's 
£80,000  were  gone;  his  friend  Lord  Shuffleton's rotten 
borough  was  gone  ;  his  own  credit  was  gone  ;  so  that 
he  had  no  alternative  but  St.  Stephen's  or  the  King's 
Bench. 

"  And,  oh,  tlie  choice  !  what  patriot  can  doubt 
Of  seats  with  ratting,  or  of  jails  without  ?" 

H2 


90  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

The  worst  of  it  is,  that  every  advantage  is  bought 
with  a  price  in  this  "  best  of  all  possible  worlds  :"  the 
change  that  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  his  politics  was 
another  hold  loosened  on  his  chance  of  Blichingly. 
Something  must  be  done  to  propitiate  his  mother,  with- 
out offending  his  brother,  as  he  was  a  great  friend  and 
supporter  of  Lord  Denham's,  who  was  the  cynosure  of 
their  political  hemisphere.  So  he  took  to  making  his 
mother  presents,  begging  of  her  to  choose  his  pocket 
handkerchiefs ;  eating  bad  dinners  at  five  o'clock  with 
her  once  a  month,  and  calling  her  mamma. 

This  did  very  well  to  fill  up  the  interstices  of  her  good 
graces,  but  still  there  was  a  grand  "  coup"  wanting  to 
produce  something  decisive  ;  and  he  had  not  been  a  di- 
plomatist for  eight  years  without  knowing  that  nothing 
had  so  good  a  chance  of  clinching  an  advantage,  as  as- 
suming a  great  appearance  of  conciliatory  generosity 
and  sacrifice,  when  any  of  the  other  negotiating  powers 
had  been  guilty  of  defalcation  from  the  constituted  au- 
thorities. 

His  brother  had  married  against  his  mother's  consent, 
ergo,  he  should  be  on  the  point  of  doing  the  same ;  but, 
from  his  overpowering  sense  of  filial  duty  and  afl'ection, 
should,  on  the  very  threshold  of  happiness,  relinquish 
his  dearest  hopes. 

Accordingly,  one  day  after  dinner,  at  the  end  of  a 
three  weeks'  acquaintance,  he  proposed  for  an  admi- 
ral's daughter  of  the  name  of  Erdley.  Though  penniless 
and  a  little  deformed,  with  a  slight  cast  in  one  eye,  she 
was  a  very  amiable  girl,  and  had  never  been  guilty  of 
any  folly  but  that  of  liking  Herbert  Grimstone.  How- 
ever, luckily,  her  heart  was  not  made  of  that  sort  of  brit- 
tle devotion  that  breaks  at  desertion.  Lady  de  CliflTord 
was  duly  applied  to  for  her  consent,  and  as  duly  refused 
it.  Again  and  again  she  was  entreated,  but  in  vain. 
Herbert  wrote  an  afi'ecting  letter  to  his  adored  Caroline, 
saying,  that  however  he  might  and  should  suffer,  he 
would  die  sooner  than  subject  the  pride  of  one  beloved 
better  than  life  to  the  humiliation  of  entering  a  family 
where  she  would  not  be  appreciated ! 

That  night  he  left  London  for  Paris,  accompanied  by 
Mademoiselle  Celestine,  a  French  actress  ;  wrote  to  his 
mother  from  thence  for  six  weeks  on  black-edged  pa- 
per ;  went  every  night  to  Frescati's ;  dined  every  day  at 
the  Rocher  or  the  Cafe  de  Paris  (except  when  he  dined 


THE    MAN    OP   HONOUR.  91 

out),  and  at  the  end  of  six  months  returned  to  London, 
and  assured  "  his  dearest  mamma"  that,  much  as  it  had 
cost  him,  he  felt  far  happier  in  having  obhged  her,  than 
he  could  possibly  have  done  by  gratifying  his  own 
wishes. 

This  certainly  was  a  great  point  gained,  and  his  purse 
had  no  longer  that  consumptive  appearance  which  Paris 
invariably  occasions  ;  but  "  all  that's  bright  must  fade." 
One  luckless  morning  he  forgot  an  appointment  he  had 
made  with  his  mother  to  be  in  Bruton-street  by  twelve 
o'clock,  to  pass  sentence  upon  a  groom  she  was  about 
to  hire,  and  went  to  the  levee  instead.  The  newspa- 
pers betrayed  his  secret ;  so  that,  when  he  called  the 
next  day,  he  was  not  admitted. 

The  same  fate  awaited  him  for  five  months,  with  the 
agreeable  addition  of  having  his  allowance  stopped, 
thereby  showing, 

"  What  mighty  contests  rise  from  trivial  things." 

This  was  the  time  for  Lord  de  Clifford  to  step  forward 
with  his  delicate  attentions,  and  regain  the  ground  he 
had  lost.  He  had  determined  upon  going  abroad,  wish- 
ing to  escape  from  the  vexatious  consequences  result- 
ing from  an  event  he  had  long  ardently  wished  for, 
namely,  the  birth  of  a  son ;  but,  alas  !  the  little  un- 
fortunate was  not  destined  to  appropriate  to  itself  the 
honours  of  his  house,  as  its  mother  was  a  poor  girl  of 
seventeen,  in  the  village  of  Blichingly,  of  the  name  of 
Mary  Lee.  From  the  moment  the  Dowager  Lady  de 
Clifford  had  been  made  acquainted  with  the  circum- 
stance, she  had,  with  her  usual  maternal  affection,  done 
everything  in  her  power  to  assist  her  son  in  ridding  him- 
self of  his  poor  victim's  importunities,  by  calling  her  "  a 
vile,  forward  hussy  ;"  threatening  her  with  the  parish 
authorities,  and  ejecting  her  father  from  a  little  farm  he 
rented ;  but,  unfortunately,  these  well-meant  exertions 
only  tended  to  ensure  a  contrary  effect  from  that  which 
they  were  designed  to  produce :  for  the  poor  girl,  who 
had  submitted  without  a  murmur  to  every  privation  and 
reproach,  no  sooner  found  that  her  child  was  hkely  to 
become  a  sacrifice,  than  she  redoubled  her  appeals  to 
its  unnatural  father,  which  he  humanely  determined  to 
put  an  end  to  by  retreating  beyond  the  reach  of  her  im- 
portunities. 

Neither  was  his  exemplary  mother  without  her  own 


92  CIIEVELEY  ;    OR, 

individual  sorrows  at  this  juncture ;  for  having  had  a 
living  fall  vacant  some  months  before,  she  had  refused 
it  to  a  very  w^orthy  clergyman  in  the  neighbourhood, 
thinking  he  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  be  as  coni- 
pletely  under  her  control  as  she  thought  desirable,  and 
so  gave  it  accordingly  to  a  miserably  poor  relation  of 
Mr.  Tymmons's,  rejoicing  in  the  euphoneous  cognomen 
of  Hoskins.  This  presentation  had,  primdfaac,  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  great  charity  towards  Hoskins,  but  his 
patroness  was  too  shrewd  a  person  to  act  without  a  mo- 
tive. The  fact  was,  the  tithe  being  worth  about  jGIOO 
a  year,  she  meant  him  to  accept  a  modus  of  jC35  ;  but, 
unfortunately,  he  being,  too,  like  herself,  of  a  mean,  sor- 
did, grasping  disposition,  totally  devoid  of  gratitude,  an- 
swered this  proposition  by  instantly  bringing  an  action 
against  her  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  for  simony,  which 
he  followed  up  by  every  species  of  vulgar,  personal  an- 
noyance he  could  invent,  so  that  her  son  found  her  more 
inclined  than  he  could  have  anticipated  to  accompany 
him  to  Italy,  wliich,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  an  addi- 
tional martyrdom  to  poor  Julia. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Membranis  intuspositis  delere  licebit 
Quod  non  edideris  :  nescit  vox  missa  reverti." 

Q.  HoRATiE  Fl.icci,  Epistola  ad  Pisones. 

"  Moulded  by  her — her  son  to  manhood  grown, 
She  now  can  claim  his  vices  as  her  own." 

"  The  oath  in  any  way  or  fonn  you  please, 
I  stand  resolved  to  take  it." 

Massingeh's  Duke  of  Milan. 

A  German  writer  has  observed,  that  "  Luther  knew 
very  well  what  he  was  about  when  he  threw  the  ink- 
stand at  Satan's  head,  for  there  is  nothing  that  the  devil 
hates  like  ink."  In  this,  at  least.  Lord  de  Clifford's 
maternal  progenitor  resembled  his  Satanic  majesty, 
for  nothing  on  earth  she  so  much  dreaded,  and,  conse- 
quently, hated,  as  the  idea  of  anonymous  letters  about 
her  being  disseminated,  or  of  being  made  the  subject  of 
a  paragraph  in  a  newspaper.    Poor  lady  I  she  was  re- 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  93 

ally  to  be  pitied,  for  she  had  all  her  life  been  inverting 
Plato's  maxim,  "  That,  in  seeking  other's  good,  we  find 
our  own;"  as,  in  seeking  other's  harm,  she  invariably 
found  hers. 

She  had  sought  to  save  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Peter 
Hoskins  trouble,  by  condensing  his  tithe  of  jGlOO  per 
annum  into  £35,  and  a  simonious  suit  decided  against 
her  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  had  been  the  result. 
She  had  wished  to  make  farmer  Jenkins  drain  the 
hedges  and  rethatch  the  barn  at  Rushworth  farm, 
solely  for  his  own  comfort  (but  wholly  at  his  own  ex- 
pense) ;  whereupon  he  had  tlie  impertinence  to  employ 
an  attorney,  who  clearly  proved  tliat,  according  to  the 
terms  of  the  lease,  the  repairs  of  draining,  thatching, 
&c.,  devolved  entirely  upon  her  ladyship,  and  were  en- 
tirely compulsory  obligations,  which  brought  forth  the 
before  alluded  to  insolent  letter  from  farmer  Jenkins, 
wherein  he  threatened  to  publish  the  whole  transac- 
tion, with  episodes,  in  the shire  "  Courant,"  if  she 

did  not  instantly  desire  Mr.  Grindall,  her  steward,  to 
have  the  aforesaid  draining  and  thatching  put  in  liand. 

By  the  same  packet  had  also  come  an  obsequious  and 
admonitory  letter  from  the  faithful  Tymmons,  putting 
her  on  her  guard  as  to  the  machinations  of  his  "  never- 
to-be-sufficiently-deprecated,  ungrateful,  and  degener- 
ate kinsman,  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Peter  Hoskins,  "  who 
had  not  only  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  Mary  Lee, 
in  his  pastoral  capacity  of  guardian  to  the  parish  mor- 
als, but  had  actually  joined  the  thatching  and  draining 
cabal  of  the  Jenkinists.  But,"  continued  Mr.  Tym- 
mons, in  his  able  and  eloquent  epistle,  in  which  he  ap- 
peared deeply  to  have  studied  Aristotle's  receipt  for 
good  writing,  namely,  ''  to  speak  like  the  common  peo- 
ple, and  think  like  the  wise" — "  but  bad  as  these  here 
two  hitches  is,  they  ain't  without  a  remedy  neither ; 
for,  as  I  was  a  saying  to  Mr.  Grindall  last  night,  when 
we  was  a  drinking  your  ladyship's  health  in  a  glass  of 
the  very  best  Blichingly  ale  I  ever  tasted — and,  thanks  to 
your  goodness,  my  lady,  Pve  tasted  many — that  there 
is  Bring-'em-down-Dick,  as  we  calls  Richard  Brindal, 
the  under-keeper,  as  was  discharged  for  poaching 
Christmas  twelvemonth,  might  be  got  to  marry  the 
girl,  and  say  the  child  is  his,  if  so  be  my  lord  would 
come  down  with  a  matter  of  ^£200,  which,  in  my  hum- 
ble opinion  (but  with  all  due  deference  to  your  lady- 


94  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

ship,  who,  of  course,  always  knoAvs  best),  it  would  be 
well  worth  his  lordship's  while  to  do ;  as  Mister  Hos- 
kins — I  mean  that  eternal  disgrace,  that  flaw  in  our  fam- 
ily— is  actually  drawing  up  a  pamphlet  on  the  subject, 
which  the  vulgar  wretch  says  he  shall  keep  under  his 
lee  till  the  next  Triverton  election ;  and  then,  if  my 
lord  stands,  or  even  Mr.  Herbert,  it  will  be  a  smasher. 
But  I  beg  j'^our  ladyship's  pardon  for  repeating  this  here 
venomous  viciousness  ;  nothing  but  a  wish  to  place 
your  ladyship  on  your  ladyship's  guard,  so  as  that  you 
may  circumvent  the  villain,  and  enable  my  lord  to  rise 
above  it  bright  and  resplendent,  as  1  have  often  seen 
the  sun  do  from  the  Thames  just  above  Eel  Pie  Island, 
could  induce  me  to  offend  your  ladyship's  eyes  with 
such  words. 

"  I  was  at  Blichingly  last  evening  ;  the  Swedish  tur- 
nips have  taken  Avell,  but  Mr.  Grindall  thinks  the  Nor- 
folk wheat  too  coarse,  and  the  geese  won't  eat  the 
stubble.  Sorry  to  say,  two  bucks  and  a  doe  were  found 
shot  at  the  east  end  of  the  park  yesterday,  and  the 
black  swan  has  killed  one  of  the  white  ones.  Hoskins 
had  the  eftYontery  to  ask  John  Oaks,  the  new  under- 
gardener,  for  a  few  grains  of  the  Russian  parsley-seed 
last  week,  which  he  very  properly  refused,  telling  him 
he'd  see  him  d — d  first ;  upon  which  Hoskins  swore  he 
was  drunk,  and  had  him  fined  five  shillings. 

"  I  trouble  your  ladyship  with  this  little  anecdote  of 
John  Oaks,  knowing  that  that  justice  which  invariably 
leads  your  ladyship  to  punish  vice,  equally  leads  you 
to  reward  virtue. 

"  Mrs.  Tymmons  begs  her  humble,  dutiful  respects  to 
your  ladyship,  whom  we  both  sincerely  hope  is  quite 
well,  as  well  as  my  lord  and  little  miss,  who,  we  hear, 
is  the  very  born  image  of  your  ladyship.  Beauty  is  all 
very  well,  but  beauty  won't  last  for  ever :  so  that  she 
may  have  the  beauties  of  your  ladyship's  mind  as  well, 
is  the  humble  hope  of  your  ladyship's 
"  Faithful,  grateful,  and 

"  Obhged  servant  to 

"  Command  till  death, 
"  Anthony  Algernon  Tymmons." 

This  budget  induced  Lady  de  Clifford  to  summon  her 
son  to  a  cabinet  council,  which  she  opened  in  a  manner 
that  Machiavel  might  have  envied,  and  Prince  Talley- 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  95 

rand  despaired  of  equalling.  The  mother  and  son 
knew  each  other  too  well,  whatever  might  be  the  im- 
minent danger  of  their  respective  dilemmas,  ever  to 
commit  the  candid  imbecility  of  asking  a  favour  when 
they  had  the  power  of  making  it  appear  that  they  were 
conferring  an  obligation ;  and  as  both  perfectly  coin- 
cided in  the  French  philosopher's  opinion,  that  "  words 
were  given  to  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts,"  they  invari- 
ably used  theirs  accordingly. 

"Well,  ma'am,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  slammed  the 
door  after  him,  flung  himself  into  a  chair  with  his  hat 
on,  yawned  sonorously,  and  placed  his  feet  upon  the 
table,  "  1  suppose  you  have  sent  to  me  about  this  Rush- 
worth  Farm  business.  I  really  don't  see  what  the  d — 1 
you  can  do ;  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  knock  under  at 
last :  so  you  had  better  make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  to 
stop  Jenkins's  mouth,  and  say  that,  on  looking  over  the 
lease,  you  find  Grindall  (for  don't  commit  yourself)  was 
mistaken,  and  therefoio  you  will  order  the  repairs  to  be 
made,  and  are  sorry  there  should  have  been  so  long  a 
delay." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,"  said  the  affectionate  mother,  "  it  is 
very  little  consequence  about  the  Rushworth  Farm.  I 
sent  for  you  upon  another  business — about  that  'ere 
tiresome  Mary  Lee.  She  is  threatening  to  expose 
everything ;  and  then  your  character  might  suffer." 

"  My  character !"  shouted  Lord  de  Clifibrd,  in  a  voice 
almosL  inarticulate  with  rage,  as  he  started  on  his  feet 
and  stamped  at  his  terrified  parent,  who  stood  trembling 
like  an  amateur  wizard — a  Tycho  in  the  black  art,  that 
had  raised  a  demon  she  had  neither  the  power  to  exor- 
cise nor  control ;  "  my  character,  madam  !  who  dare  im- 
peach if?  It  is  as  undeserving  of  censure  as  it  is  su- 
perior to  and  beyond  it.  Is  that  name  which  has  been 
unsullied  for  a  thousand  years,  and  which  has  derived 
additional  lustre  since  it  has  centred  in  me — is  it,  I  say, 
to  be  tarnished  by  a  village  calumny,  filtered  through 
the  ravings  of  a  lowborn  peasant,  who  ought  to  feel  it 
her  only  source  of  pride  that  I  had  ever  looked  at  her  ?" 

"  Very  true,  my  dear,"  responded  the  virtuous  and 
sensible  matron ;  "  but  you  see  this  here  Hoskins  is 
such  a  wretch :  he's  a  drawing  up  some  horrid  pam- 
phlet, which  he  threatens  to  publish  at  the  next  Triver- 
ton  election  should  either  you  or  Herbert  stand ;  and 
at  these  elections  people  are  so  sciurilous  and  treacher- 


96  CHEVELEY  ',    OK, 

ous,  there  is  no  knowing  what  may  be  said;  and  I 
thought  if  Hoskins — " 

"  There  it  is,"  interrupted  her  son,  as  he  paced  the 
room,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  his  hat 
slouched  over  his  eyes ;  "  you  would  give  the  Uving  to 
that  blackguard,  when  I  wanted  you  to  give  it  to  young 
Dinely,  which  would  have  obliged  Herbert,  as  Lord 
Shuffleton  had  always  been  so  kind  to  him  ;  and  Dine- 
ly's  a  capital  fellow — thinks  of  nothing  but  his  hounds 
and  a  good  bottle  of  claret — and  as  he  is  sure  of  being 
a  bishop  before  he  dies,  he  would  have  let  you  make 
ducks  and  drakes  of  the  tithes." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear,  it  is  shocking  to  think  how  one 
suffers  for  a  good  action  in  this  world  :  so  charitable  as 
it  was  of  me  to  give  the  living  to  that  'ere  Hoskins, 
when  Mr.  Moreton  applied  for  it,  and  every  one  speaks 
so  well  of  him !  But  I  can't  say  I  like  those  popular 
people  ;  I  think  they  must  be  so  artful ;  besides,  he's 
rather  methodistical  and  particular.  But  let  us  think 
what  can  be  done  about  this  here  terrible  pamphlet." 

"  Done  I  why,  I'll  write  to  Clarridge,  the  d — d  Triver- 
ton  printer,  and  tell  him  I'll  prosecute  him  if  he  dares 
publish  anything  of  the  sort." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,  you  are  much  too  open  and  unsuspi- 
cious ;  that  would  never  do  ;  because,  in  the  first  place, 
that  would  commit  you  more ;  and,  in  the  next  place, 
Hoskins  could  get  it  published  elsewhere  ;  but — " 

"  But  what,  ma'am  1  Then  I'll  break  every  bone  in 
that  rascally  Hoskins's  skin." 

"  I'm  sure,  my  dear,  your  just  indignation  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  and  does  vaust  credit  to  your  head  and 
hort ;  but  you  always  was  so  vaustly  speritcd  and  high- 
minded  ;  but  it  don't  do  with  those  sort  of  people  ;  you 
should  always  compass  them  with  a  net  before  you  at- 
tack them  with  a  spear ;  that  is,  never  attack  them  be- 
fore you  are  quite  sure  that  they  have  no  means  either 
of  defence  or  escape." 

"  There  is  some  sense  in  that,  ma'am.  But  what  do 
you  want  me  to  do,  thenV 

"  Why,  my  dear,  it  strikes  me"  (for  this  candid  and 
veracious  lady  would  not  even  give  her  faithful  friend 
and  counsellor,  Mr.  Tymmons,  the  credit  of  his  plot),  "  it 
strikes  me  that  you  had  better  give  some  man  a  couple 
of  hundred  pounds  to  marry  the  girl,  and  so  get  rid  of 
her ;  but  first  make  him  promise  to  say  that  the  child  is 


THE   MAN    OF   HONOUR.  97 

his ;  and  then  you  can  write  a  letter  to  Clarridge,  the 
editor  of  the  '  Courant,'  assuring  him  you  know  nothing 
of  Mary  Lee,  but,  hearing  she  was  miserably  poor,  have 
given  her  that  money  as  a  dower,  which  circumstance 
he  can  put  in  the  county  paper,  and  it  will  sound  un- 
commonly generous  on  your  part;  and  Grindail  shall 
have  my  orders  to  send  him  half  a  buck  before  he  re- 
ceives your  letter,  which  will  prepare  him  to  justify 
you  to  every  one." 

"  That's  all  very  fine,  ma'am ;  but,  d — n  it !  who's  to 
be  got  to  marry  tjfie  girl  ?" 

"  Why,  I  was  thinking,  my  dear,  that  that  'ere  Brin- 
dal,  that  I  turned  away  for  poaching  some  time  ago, 
would  do  anything  for  jC200." 

"  Yes,  and  a  pretty  way  I  should  commit  myself  by 
exacting  a  promise  of  secrecy  from  such  a  fellow  as 
that,  who,  for  a  quarter  of  the  sum,  in  a  case  of  neces- 
sity, would  betray  everything!" 

"  My  dear,  you  are  naturally  so  irritated  at  the  vil- 
lanous  threats  of  that  wretch  Hoskins,  that  you  do  not 
take  time  to  understand  me.  I  never  meant  that  yon 
should  compromise  yourself  by  having  any  dealings 
with  Brindal ;  but  I  thought  I  could  give  Mr.  Tymmons 
(of  whose  honesty  and  secrecy  I  have  every  reason  to 
have  the  highest  opinion)  a  hint  to  negotiate  the  busi- 
ness ;  and  when  he  had  got  him  publicly  to  own  the 
child,  then  give  him  the  money,  which  would  be  better 
and  safer  than  giving  it  to  the  girl,  as  that  might  look 
suspicious ;  and  in  giving  it  to  Brindal,  Mr.  Tymmons 
could  say  that  I  had  discovered  that  he  was  not  guilty 
of  the  fault  for  which  I  had  discharged  him,  and  there- 
fore that  you,  as  well  as  myself,  wished  to  make  him 
every  reparation  in  our  power.  Besides,  my  dear,  do- 
ing it  in  this  way  would  have  another  advantage ;  the 
circumstance  would  do  vaustly  well  to  put  into  a  para- 
graph, as  a  set-off  to  one  of  those  eternal  flourishes 
about  the  blankets  and  coals  Lord  Sudbury  gives  to  the 
poor  of  Triverton  every  Christmas." 

"  Well,  my  dear  ma'am,"  said  the  obedient  son,  affec- 
tionately taking  his  mother's  hand,  "  I  think  you  have 
arranged  everything  very  diplomatically,  so  I  shall 
leave  it  entirely  to  you." 

"  Ah,  my  dear !  depend  upon  it,  there  is  no  friend  like 
a  mother,  and  this  it  was  that  made  me  so  much  against 
your  marriage.    I  saw  how  you  was  throwing  yourself 

Vol.  I.— I 


98  ClIEVELEY  ;    OR, 

away — but  there's  no  putting  old  heads  on  young 
shoulders." 

"  I  can  only  lament,  my  dear  ma'am,"  said  the  af- 
fectionate son,  gallantly  kissing  the  hand  he  still  held, 
"  that,  being  blessed  with  such  a  mother,  I  have  not  al- 
ways followed  the  advice  which  was  dictated  by  her 
superior  sense." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  let  by-gones  be  by-gones ;  I'll  write 
to  I\Ir.  Tymmons,  if  you'll  just  write  a  line  to  Clar- 
ridge." 

Lord  de  Clifford  sat  down  and  endited  the  following 
epistle  : 

"Dear  Sir, 
"  You  may  probably  have  heard  some  time  ago  of  a 
man  of  the  name  of  Richard  Brindal,  an  under  game- 
keeper of  my  mother's,  being  discharged  from  her 
service  for  poaching :  she  has  since  discovered  that  he 
was  wrongfully  accused  by  a  rival  keeper,  and  she  is 
therefore  anxious  (with  that  justice  and  generosity 
which  have  ever  distinguished  her)  to  make  him  every 
reparation  in  her  power ;  for  which  reason,  hearing  he 
is  about  to  be  married  to  a  young  woman  of  the  name 
of  Lee,  in  the  village  of  Blichingly,  she  has  given  him 
jGlOO,  and  begged  of  me  to  add  another  hundred  to  it, 
which  I  have  much  pleasure  in  doing.  I  should  feel 
much  obliged  by  your  making  these  facts  public,  through 
the  medium  of  your  valuable  paper;  not  from  any  de- 
sire of  proclaiming  my  mother's  generosity  (for  that  is 
a  proceeding  from  which  1  know  she  would  shrink),  but 
solely  from  the  desire  of  vindicating  and  re-establishing 
the  character  of  the  poor  man.  I  understand  Brindal 
has  had  a  liaison  with  the  girl  he  is  about  to  marry ;  the 
child  which  was  the  result  of  it,  Mr.  Hoskins,  with  his 
usual  impotent,  unchristian-like,  but  for  that  reason 
perfectly  clerical  malice,  has  thought  fit  to  tax  me  with 
being  the  father  of;  an  accusation  which  I  hope  I  need 
not  assure  you,  on  the  honour  of  a  gentleman,  is  per- 
fectly false,  and  this  you  have  my  authority  to  state, 
should  the  calumny  gain  ground.  Hoping  Mrs.  Clar- 
ridge  and  your  young  people  are  quite  well, 
"  BeUeve  me,  dear  sir, 

"  Very  faithfully  yours, 

"  De  Clifford." 

"  There,  ma'am,  will  that  do  V  said  Lord  de  Clifford, 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  99 

pushing  over  this  precious  "  morceau"  to  his  mother, 
who,  after  she  had  perused  it,  said, 

"  Nothing  can  be  better,  my  dear  ;  but  you  do  write 
so  vaustly  well !  There  is  only  one  thing :  do  you  think 
it  quite  prudent  to  call  Hoskins's  conduct  '  perfectly  cler- 
ical V  I'm  sure  I  speak  disinterestedly,  for  his  conduct 
has  been  enough  to  disgust  one  with  all  rehgion ;  but  it 
might  be  brought  against  you  at  one  of  those  horrid 
elections ;  and  you  know,  my  dear,  that  I  am  a  stanch 
Tory,  for  I  really  think  we  landed  proprietors  ought  to 
support  church  and  state." 

"  Fudge !  my  dear  ma'am  ;  what  the  d — 1  have  the 
church  and  the  parsons  to  do  with  the  state  ?  All  that 
is  such  d — d  nonsense  !" 

"  Perhaps  not  the  parsons,  my  dear  (and  I'm  sure  no 
one  has  more  cause  to  dislike  them  than  I  have),  but  cer- 
tainly church  and  state  always  have  gone,  always  do,  and 
always  will  go  together.  You  know,  my  dear,  we  have 
the  thirty-nine  Articles,  the  Magna  Charta,  and  the  Ha- 
beas Corpus  Act  for  that.  But  we  are  forgetting  things 
of  more  consequence  ;  you  did  not  mention  the  venison 
in  your  letter  to  Clarridge." 

"  I  thought  it  better  not ;  for,  should  he  show  the  let- 
ter, it  might  look  like  bribery." 

"  Very  just  observation,  my  dear ;  I  did  not  think  of 
that."  And  now  came  the  pith  and  marrow  of  this 
long  conference,  namely,  her  ladyship's  own  business, 
which,  to  make  it  appear  of  the  least  possible  impor- 
tance, she  put  off  to  the  last  moment.  "  Oh,  by-the- 
by,  George,"  said  she,  just  as  her  son  was  about  to 
seal  his  letter,  "  be  so  good  as  to  add  a  postscript,  beg- 
ging Clarridge  will  contradict  in  every  possible  way 
any  stories  about  Jenkins  and  the  Rushworth  Farm ; 
say  it  was  all  a  mistake  of  Grindall's ;  that  I  had  it 
rectified  the  moment  it  came  to  my  knowledge.  I'm 
sure  none  but  landed  proprietors  can  know  the  trouble 
of  landed  property,"  concluded  her  ladyship,  with  a 
deep  sigh,  as  though  she  were  personally  labouring  un- 
der the  weight  of  all  her  own  acres.  This  veracious 
protocol  having  been  added  to  the  before-mentioned 
truths,  the  bell  was  rang,  and  the  letter  duly  despatched. 
Lord  de  Clifford  having  arranged  all  his  own  business 
entirely  to  his  satisfaction,  was  preparing  to  leave  the 
room,  when  his  amiable  parent  said, 
"  Stop  a  minute,  my  dear,  I  want  to  speak  to  you. 


100  cheveley;  or, 

I've  been  thinking  your  establishment  is  a  great  deal 
more  expensive  than  it  need  be ;  not  that  I  would  on 
any  account  deprive  you  of  any  comfort,  but  really  I 
must  say  that  'ere  Beryl,  Lady  de  Clifford's  maid,  has 
a  great  deal  too  much  wages.  I  understand  she  gets 
four-and-twenty  guineas  a  year ;  now  I  only  give  Frump 
sixteen — there's  eight  guineas  saved  at  once." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  ma'am,  but  Beryl  is  a  very  good  hair- 
dresser and  miUiner,  I  believe." 

"Pack  of  stuff!  I  really  think  Miss  Neville's  maid 
might  wait  upon  her  sister ;  I'm  sure  she  never  had  a 
maid  to  herself  before  she  married ;  but  those  sort  of 
people  always  give  themselves  the  most  airs ;  besides, 
it  is  a  very  bad  plan  to  let  servants  live  too  long  with 
one,  for  they  begin  to  fancy  one  cannot  do  Avithout 
them.  That  'ere  Beryl,  from  Uving  so  long  with  Lady 
de  Clifford,  is  grown  quite  disrespectful.  Only  fancy 
her  saying  to  the  servants  that  she  loves  her  mistress 
as  well  as  if  she  was  her  sister !  So  vaustly  free  and 
impertinent !  I'm  sure  no  servant  has  ever  presumed 
to  speak  in  that  way  of  me ;  and  then  she  tells  Frump 
that  she  keeps  all  Lady  de  Clifford's  keys,  and  buys 
everything  for  her,  which,  I  am  sure,  is  enough  to  spoil 
any  servant  in  the  world.  I  never  let  Frump  buy  me 
anything  except  a  pair  of  gloves  once,  for  which  she 
charged  me  half  a  crown,  and  I  should  have  discharged 
her  instantly,  only  I  wanted  her  to  find  out  something 
about  a  cook  I  had  at  the  time,  for  it  was  such  evident 
cheatery,  as  I  never  paid  but  eighteenpence  for  my 
gloves ;  and  since  Mrs.  Tymmons  took  me  to  Sewell 
and  Crosse's,  I  only  pay  a  shilling ;  and  as  for  keys, 
I'm  sure  I  could  not  sleep  if  I  thought  Frump  had  a 
single  key  of  mine  in  her  possession." 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear  ma'am,"  said 
Lord  de  Clifford,  rather  alarmed  at  this  insight  into  his 
wife's  extravagance,  "  it  is  not  so  much  for  Lady  de 
Clifford's  accommodation  that  I  allow  her  to  keep  Beryl, 
but  the  fact  is,  travelling,  she  is  a  perfect  treasure  to  me. 
Neither  Dorionor  Carlton  can  ever  remember  anything, 
and  she  never  forgets  a  single  thing ;  then  she  has  found 
out  a  way  of  packing  my  things  Avithout  rumpling  them, 
which  neither  of  those  two  dolts  can  do ;  she  makes 
me  capital  tobacco-bags,  that  don't  come  open  at  the 
top,  and  much  nicer  '  sachets'  than  I  can  buy ;  and  I 
never  had  a  nightcap  I  could  wear  till  she  made  them ; 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  101 

and  so  cheap,  for  I  only  pay  her  ten  shillings  for  what 
I  used  to  pay  Ludlem  a  pound,  and  much  better  velvet 
too.  In  short,  she  is  more  my  valet  than  either  Carl- 
ton or  Dorio.  I  think  she  has  an  impertinent  manner, 
though,  as  her  excuse  for  keeping  me  waiting  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  other  day  was,  that  slie  must  attend  to 
Lady  de  Clifford  first ;  for  wliich  reason  I  shall  discharge 
her  when  I  get  to  England." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,  I  was  not  aware  that  she  was  of  the 
least  use  to  you ;  if  I  had,  I'm  sure  1  should  have  been 
the  last  person  to  wish  you  to  part  with  her.  Indeed, 
if  you  had  not  told  me  of  her  impertinent  speech  the 
other  day,  I  should  have  given  her  a  new  gown  to  make 
her  more  attentive  to  you.  You'll  forgive  my  mention- 
ing the  circumstance,  but  I  thought  it  was  extravagant 
in  Lady  de  Clifford  to  give  her  such  wages." 

"  Oh !  my  dear  ma'am,  I'm  sure  I'm  very  grateful  to 
you,  and  I  see  the  justice  of  all  you  have  said." 

So  saying,  this  amiable  mother  and  son  separated  till 
dinner ;  the  former  to  calculate  how  she  could  manage 
to  reduce  Frump's  board  wages,  the  latter  to  enjoy  the 
intellectual  feast  of  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville's  powers 
of  listening. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  My  lieart  is  mad  ;  why  not  my  brain  T    Oh,  wifch  ! 
That  flaming  Hymen  now  would  quench  hi.s  torch, 
Or  Hate  between  lliy  fool  and  thee  would  set 
Double  divorce  for  ever  !     Shall  I  go  Y 
I  cannot  qUit  her:  but,  like  men  who  mock 
The  voice  of  thunder,  tarry  until— I  die  ! 
Shall  I  not  go  ?    I  will  not,  though  the  tongues 
Of  chiding  virtue  rail  me  straight  to  stone. 
Here  will  I  stand,  a  statue  fix'd  and  firm, 
Before  the  fiery  altar  of  my  love, 
Both  worshipper  and  martyr!" 

B.iRRY  Cornwall. 

"Yes,  I  will  leave  this  place,"  said  Mowbray,  one 
morning,  about  a  fortnight  after  the  party  to  Como  ;  "  it 
is  madness — is  it  not  something  worse  ! — of  me  to  re- 
main.   What  can  it,  what  must  it  all  end  in  ?    My  eler- 
I  2 


lOS  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

nal  wretchedness  certainly,  if  she  is  what  I  think,  what 
I  feel,  ay,  and  what  I  know  her  to  be !  What  a  fate  is 
mine  !  Why  should  the  only  human  being  in  the  world 
that  can  make  life  desirable  to  me,  be  the  only  one  that 
I  must  not,  at  least  that  I  ought  not,  to  think  of!  Why 
was  I  born  ■?  Why  cannot  1  fathom  the  dark  mystery 
of  my  own  existence]  Of  what  jarring  atoms  am  I 
composed  !  The  crude  and  half-formed  germes  of  good 
within  me  seem  as  if  the  sun  which  was  to  vivify  and 
expand  them  had  never  shone  till  now.  Oh !  mystery 
of  mysteries !  can  that  which  softens  and  improves  my 
whole  nature  be  in  itself  wrong  ?  Can  crime,  whose 
fruits  are  so  bitter,  bear  such  fair  blossoms  1  Can  sin, 
whose  '  wages  are  death,'  be  the  only  thing  which  has 
taught  me  to  live  1  or  is  my  curse  to  be  a  oneness,  both 
of  fate  and  feeling  "?  All  nature  owns  a  fair  variety ;  light 
has  its  shade,  heat  its  alternate  cold,  spring  its  show- 
ers, summer  its  suns,  toil  its  rest ;  but  I  know  no  change  : 
the  unfathomed  essence  of  one  feeling  absorbs  all  oth- 
ers ;  and  with  this  feeling  my  heart  aches  and  burns, 
and  maddens  like  a  lidless  eye  beneath  a  scorching 
sun !  I  have  played  the  fool's  game,  and  gambled  with 
my  fate ;  all  is  gone — all  lost — all  sacrificed  to  this  one 
master-passion,  and  I  am  left  without  any  of  the  small 
change  of  sensations  and  pursuits  which  enable  others 
to  support  existence !" 

So  argued,  or,  rather,  raved  Mowbray,  till  his  hand 
was  actually  on  the  bell  to  order  preparations  to  be  made 
for  his  immediate  departure.  In  the  Herculean  labour  of 
pulling  an  Italian  bell,  the  bunch  of  withered  violets  that 
Lady  de  Clifford  had  dropped  some  time  before,  fell  from 
his  bosom,  where  they  had  been  deposited  ever  since 
the  day  he  had  possessed  himself  of  them.  The  sight 
of  them  changed  the  whole  current  of  his  intentions : 
he  returned  to  his  former  sophistry,  "  that,  in  continuing 
his  intercourse  with  Julia,  no  one  would  be  injured  but 
himself!"  Therefore,  with  that  Curtuis-like  devotion 
which  a  man  always  evinces  to  secure  the  gratification 
of  his  own  selfishness,  as  soon  as  the  bell  was  answered, 
instead  of  asking  for  his  courier,  he  called  for  some 
Seltzer  water,  and  ordered  his  horses,  which,  when  they 
came  round,  conveyed  him  to  the  palazzo. 

But  what  were  Mowbray's  conflicts  to  Julia's  1  He 
only  struggled  against  the  sorrow  of  his  love — she  had 
to  shrink  from  the  sin  of  hers  :  he  looked  to  the  penal- 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  103 

ties  resulting  from  that  love  here — she  to  the  punish- 
ment that  awaited  it  hereafter.  She  had  all  her  woman's 
purity  to  magnify  and  blacken  her  fault;  he  had  all  his 
man's  sophistry  of  custom  to  lessen  and  lighten  his  :  his 
love,  refine,  restrain  it  as  he  might,  was  still  but  that 
whirlwind  of  impulse,  passion,  and  selfishness,  which  a 
man's  love  always  is ;  while  hers  was  a  sort  of  mono- 
mania of  the  heart,  differing  from  that  of  the  brain  in 
this,  that  while  that  of  the  head  consists  in  imagining 
ourselves  to  be  something  which  we  are  not,  that  of  the 
heart  employs  all  its  delusions  upon  another. 

But,  exclusive  of  this  ill-fated  attachment,  which  Lady 
de  Clifford  would  not  own  even  to  herself,  she  had  quite 
enough  to  make  her  wretched :  for  an  eloquent  writer 
has  remarked,  that  "  When  a  woman  of  genius  is  endued 
with  real  sensibility,  her  sorrov/  is  multiplied  by  her 
faculties  themselves  :  she  makes  discoveries  in  her  af- 
flictions, as  in  the  rest  of  nature,  and  the  miseries  of  her 
heart  become  inexhaustible ;  the  more  ideas  she  has, 
the  more  she  feels  it." 

Frank,  generous,  and  affectionate,  she  met  with  no- 
thing in  her  husband's  family  but  deceit,  meanness,  and 
coldness.  Like  all  intellectual  women,  she  was  of  a 
social  disposition,  and  half  her  life  was  condemned  to 
solitude  and  silence.  Clever  men  have  a  thousand  ways 
of  making  their  talents  available  ;  science,  politics,  law, 
war,  literature,  all  are  open  to  them ;  therefore,  with 
them,  "  self-love  and  social"  are  not  necessarily  the 
same  :  but  a  woman  has  but  one  sphere  wherein  to  enjoy 
her  talents — society.  It  may  be  urged  that  literature  is 
equally  open  to  them  as  to  tlie  other  sex  :  not  so ;  for, 
generally  speaking,  women  have  either  fathers,  brothers, 
or  husbands,  who  would  shrink  from  having  an  authoress 
for  a  daughter,  sister,  or  wife  ;  and  the  reason  is  obvious  : 
it  arises  from  a  fear  that  they  might  either  disgrace  or 
distinguish  themselves,  two  results  equally  distasteful 
to  the  pride  of  man. 

No  one  could  possibly  have  less  desire  "  de  briller" 
than  Lady  de  Clifford ;  yet  it  was  not  pleasant  to  her 
pride  to  be  commanded  into  silence  at  home,  in  order  to 
make  way  for  the  platitudes  of  her  mother  and  brother- 
in-law,  or  to  be  frowned  into  it  abroad,  for  fear  of  oc- 
casioning a  colloquial  eclipse  of  her  husband.  Still, 
had  she  continued  to  live  under  his  absolute  monarchy, 
her  sense  of  duty  would  have  enabled  her  to  support 


104  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

with  cliecrfulness  many  of  the  rigours  of  his  matrimo- 
nial code ;  but  she  had  now  to  endure  all  the  hydra  op- 
pressions of  a  triumvirate,  for  Mr.  Herbert  Grinistone 
had  joined  his  amiable  relatives  at  Milan,  and  had  re- 
sumed his  share  (by  no  means  an  inconsiderable  one)  in 
the  domestic  legislation  of  his  brother's  family. 

In  person  he  was  as  diminutive  as  Lord  de  Clifford 
was  tail;  his  hair  was  dark  and  thin,  though  he  had  a 
habit  of  extending  his  hand  to  encompass  the  half  dozen 
capillary  ornaments  that  graced  each  temple,  as  widely 
as  tliough  he  had  been  about  to  grasp  a  world  ;  his  eyes 
were  small,  and  of  that  sinister  and  one-expressioned 
kind  v^hich  read  others,  wliile  they  say  nothing  them- 
selves ;  his  nose  was  aquiline  ;  his  face  long,  narrow, 
and  pitted  with  smallpox;  but  Marmontel  has  described 
him  perfectly  in  his  portrait  of  the  Marquis  de  Lisban. 
"  Heureusement,"  for  I  could  not  do  it  half  so  well, 
"  c'etoit  une  de  ces  figures  froide  qui  vous  disent :  me 
voila ;  c'utoit  une  de  ces  vanites  gauches  qui  m«inqiient 
sans  cesse  leur  coup.  II  se  piquoit  de  tout,  el  n'etoit 
bon  a  rien ;  il  prenoit  la  parole,  demandoit  silence,  sus- 
pendoit  I'attenlion,  et  disoit  une  platitude  ;  il  rioit  avant 
de  conter,  et  personne  ne  rioit  de  ses  contes :  il  visoit 
souvent  a  fetre  fin,  et  il  tournoit  si  bien  ce  qu'il  vouloit 
dire,  qu'il  ne  savoit  plus  ce  qu'il  disoit.  Quand  il  en- 
nuyoit  les  femmes,  il  croyoit  les  ren-dre  reveuses :  quands 
elles  s'amusoient  de  ses  ridicules,  il  prenoit  cela  pour 
des  agaceries." 

Towards  his  superiors  (and,  morally  speaking,  they 
would  have  been  nearly  every  one  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact)  he  evinced  the  most  ubiquitous  servility, 
which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  extended  to  the  meanest 
individual  the  moment  he  found  they  were  capable  of 
being  of  the  slightest  use  to  him  :  indeed,  in  some  in- 
stances, his  philanthrophy  deserved  the  greatest  credit 
for  the  vivid  interest  he  took  in  persons  of  whose  very 
existence  he  had  appeared  ignorant  five  minutes  before. 

When  Mowbray  reached  the  palazzo,  he  found  the 
party  divided  "  a  I'Anglois ;"  that  is  to  say,  the  men  at 
one  end  of  the  room,  talking  to  each  other,  as  being 
alone  capable  of  understanding  and  appreciating  the 
wonders  of  jnasculine  intellect !  and  the  women  at  the 
other  end,  suitably  employed,  raising  mimic  parterres 
on  German  candas.  Herbert  Grimstone  was  sitting  on 
a  tabouret,  with  one  of  his  feet  in  one  of  his  hands,  and 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  105 

his  hat  on;  a  privilege  the  Grimstones  seemed  to  dis- 
pute with  the  Kinsale  family,  as  they  invariably  retain- 
ed theirs  in  the  presence  of  the  royalty  of  nature,  name- 
ly, the  softer  sex.  Lord  de  Clifford  and  Mr.  Seymour 
were  disputing  upon  the  merits  of  Lord  Bolingbroke, 
while  ever  and  anon  Herbert  Grimstone  chimed  an 
assent  to  some  observation  of  his  brother's,  when  he 
could  spare  any  attention  from  looking  over  an  octavo 
volume  he  had  just  spawned  about  Timbuctoo.  Innu- 
merable were  the  mistakes  of  the  printer ;  but  the  great- 
est mistake  was  having  printed  it  at  all. 

"  Man  is  an  imitative  animal,"  says  Buffon  (so  are 
monkeys,  for  that  matter) ;  but  Herbert  Grimstone  was 
the  most  imitative  of  his  imitative  race ;  his  very  vices 
were  not  original,  while  even  his  person  was  but  abase 
copy  of  humanity. 

Unfortunately  for  him,  or,  rather,  for  the  world,  he  had 
a  cousin,  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  the  age  had  pro- 
duced, and  who  was  as  successful  as  he  was  distinguish- 
ed as  an  author.  Herbert  had  for  some  years,  while 
abroad,  contented  himself  with  the  "dolce  far  niente" 
of  usurping  his  cousin's  well-deserved  fame  ;  in  Ger- 
many that  fame  was  at  its  height ;  consequently,  the 
name  of  Grimstone  became  a  sort  of  "  passe  par  tout ;" 
and  on  one  occasion,  as  Herbert  was  proceeding  up  the 
Rhine,  a  young  student,  reading  his  name  chrysograph- 
ed  on  a  red  morocco  despatch-box,  deferentially  ad- 
vanced, cap  in  hand,  begging  to  know  whether  he  had 
the  honour  of  addressing  a  relation  of  the  great  Grim- 
stones  ;  to  which  Herbert  modestly  replied  that  he  was 
the  great  Grimstone  !  Great  was  the  poor  student's  de- 
light !  he  did  not  know  how  to  make  enough  of  the  two 
hours  that  intervened  previous  to  their  landing;  and, 
when  they  separated,  they  did  so  mutually  pleased; 
Herbert,  inflated  with  all  the  homage  due  to  his  cousin, 
which  had  been  paid  by  mistake,  or,  rather,  through  the 
medium  of  a  falsehood  to  his  vanity ;  and  the  student 
charmed  with  the  affability  and  condescension  of  so 
great  a  man ;  though,  as  he  afterward  confessed,  his 
conversation  was  very  inferior  to  his  books  ;  but  then 
people  cannot  do  everything,  consequently  the  greatest 
genius  cannot  "  talk  a  book ;"  besides,  he  further  con- 
soled himself  with  the  idea  that  his  father  had  once  had 
the  inexpressible  felicity  of  travelling  with  Herr  Jeru- 
salem, the  original  of  Goethe's  Werter,  and  found  liim 


106  CHEVELEY  ;     OR, 

SO  little  remarkable,  nay,  so  almost  deficient,  that,  had 
he  not  blown  his  brains  out,  or,  rather,  had  not  the  au- 
thor of  "  Faust"  recorded  the  event,  no  one  would  have 
ever  known  tliat  he  had  any. 

When  Herbert  returned  to  England,  unfortunately 
for  his  hitherto  successfully-pursued  plan,  he  found  his 
cousin's  identity  a  matter  of  too  much  certainty  to  al- 
low him  to  benefit  any  longer  by  its  apocryphal  appro- 
priation ;  he  therefore  sagaciously  deemed,  that  by 
blotting  four  or  five  hundred  sheets  of  paper,  and  pub- 
lisliing'them  when  blotted,  he  should  "  in  propra  perso- 
na" become  an  author ;  and  once  that,  the  confusion 
between  him  and  his  cousin  would  bo  a  natural  result ; 
and  when  either  his  absurdities  or  obscenities  were  ar- 
raigned, it  was  easy  among  the  uninitiated  to  say,  "  C'est 
Marc-Aurele  quiparle  e'en  est  pas  moi ;"  and  vice  versa, 
when  any  good  things  were  to  be  claimed;  his  name 
procured  him  some  severe  castigations  in  reviews  that 
would  not  otherwise  have  noticed  him,  every  lash  of 
which  his  vanity  attributed  to  envy  on  the  part  of  hired 
labourers  in  the  fields  of  literature. 

His  work  on  Timbuctoo,  entitled  "  An  Inquiry  into 
the  past,  present,  and  future  state  of  the  world  in  gen- 
eral, and  Timbuctoo  in  particular,"  was  meant  to  be 
statistical,  philological,  physiological,  philomathic,  and 
political !  In  short,  a  condensation  of  all  the  "  logics" 
and  all  the  "  ologies  ;"  but,  unfortunately,  tautology  and 
acryology  were  the  only  ones  thoroughly  exemplified  ; 
throughout  he  had  mistaken  freethinking  for  philosophy, 
grossness  for  wit,  mutilation  for  analytic,  and  laxity  for 
liberality. 

As  we  have  before  stated,  he  was  employed  in  look- 
ing over  this  encyclopedia  of  his  own  absurdity  when 
Mowbray  entered.  Mowbray  was  the  man  about  town, 
therefore  Herbert's  reception  of  him  was  a  happy  mix- 
ture of  cordiality  and  cringe,  for  which  he  might  have 
taken  out  a  patent,  as  no  one  else  ever  possessed  it  in 
so  eminent  and  perfectionized  a  degree. 

"  You  are  just  come  in  time,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford, 
"  to  be  umpire  between  me  and  Seymour,  on  the  vir- 
tues and  talents  of  Lord  Bolingbroke.  Seymour  does 
not  give  him  credit  for  that  universality  of  talent  which 
I  must  say  I  think  he  evinced  upon  all  occasions."  ■» 

"I  confess,"  said  Mowbray,  "I  am  of  Seymour's 
opinion ;  I  have  always  looked  upon  Lord  Bolingbroke 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  107 

as  the  very  prince  of  charlatans,  and  think  '  the  all-pre- 
tending' would  have  been  a  much  juster  definition  of 
him  than  'the  all-accomplished  St.  John;'  even  Swift 
complains  of  his  affectation  of  the  man  of  business,  and 
his  equal  affectation  of  the  man  of  pleasure.  He  was  a 
mosaic  of  fop-stoic  statesmen  and  literature  ;  there  was 
an  eternal  straining  after  effect,  and  nothing  real  about 
him,  not  even  his  skepticism ;  and  his  meanness  in  de- 
preciating the  indisputable  learning  of  Bayle,  that  he 
might,  with  all  the  pedantry  of  a  Scaliger,  crib  from 
him,  has  always  appeared  to  me  inipardonable." 

"Do  you  not  admire  his  'Letters  in  Exile,' then  ?" 
ventured  Herbert  Grimstone. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  do ;  they  are  so  overlaid  with 
laboured  classical  quotations,  that  the  Cincinnatus  tone 
he  wishes  to  affect  is  utterly  destroyed." 

"  You  will  at  least  allow,"  said  Saville,  "  that  he  was 
a  zealous  and  an  active  friend ;  for,  during  the  three 
days  of  his  administration,  he  made  a  point  of  obtaining 
from  the  queen  the  thousand  pounds  for  Swift,  which 
Lord  Oxford  had,  with  all  his  professions  to  the  dean, 
failed  in  procuring." 

"  I  allow  that  Lord  Bolingbroke's  hatred  of  Lord  Ox- 
ford was  so  intense,  that  the  desire  of  doing  what  he 
had  done,  and  '  se  faisant  valoir,'  thereupon  had  more 
lo  do  with  this  kind  act  than  friendship  for  Swift." 

"  I  cannot  think  so,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford ;  "  for  how 
constant  he  was  in  his  kindness  to,  and  correspondence 
with,  Swift  to  the  last !" 

"  Yes,  and  the  greatest  piece  of  want  of  feeling  and 
bad  taste  he  ever  evinced,  was  in  one  of  his  letters  on 
the  death  of  Stella,  at  least  only  a  little  month  after  it, 
where  he  says  to  the  dean,  '  My  wife  sends  you  some 
fans  just  arrived  from  Lilliput,  which  you  will  dispose 
of  to  the  present  Stella,  whosoever  she  may  be.'  Now, 
considering  that,  badly  and  unpardonably  as  he  had  be- 
haved to  her,  she  was  the  only  woman  Swift  had  ever 
really  loved  (for  his  flirtation  with  Miss  Van  Nomrigh 
was  mere  vanity  and  convenience),  this  was  coarse 
and  unfeeUng,  to  say  the  least  of  it ;  but  persons  are  apt 
to  make  a  great  mistake  when  they  gauge  other's  sin- 
cerity by  their  own." 

"  Oh,  hang  it !"  said  Lord  de  Clifford,  "  a  great  man 
is  not  to  have  his  good  feeling  questioned  from  a  slip 
of  a  pen  about  a  d — d  woman." 


108  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"Thank  you,  in  the  name  of  the  whole  sex,"  said 
Mrs.  Seymour,  who,  with  Mademoiselle  de  A.  and  the 
rest  of  the  ladies,  had  joined  the  coterie  since  Mow- 
bray's arrival, 

"  I  don't  kuow  that,"  said  Saville  ;  "  I  have  a  vulgar 
prejudice  in  favour  of  a  man's  extending  a  deferential 
worship  and  consequent  respect  to  the  whole  sex,  or  I 
don't  think  he  can  behave  well  to  one." 

"Ah!  '  vous  prfecher  pour  votre  paroisse,'"  laughed 
Madame  de  A. 

"  And  you  are  my  diocesan,"  whispered  Saville  to 
Fanny. 

"  Nolo  episco  peri,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  for  I  shall  not 
allow  of  any  such  polytheistic  doctrines  as  you  have 
professed." 

"  You  know  very  well,"  said  he,  "  that  you  have  long 
converted  me  to  pure  deism,  and  that  all  the  worship 
that  I  have  given  to  many  I  now  pour  out  to  one.  What 
more  do  you  want,  tyrant  ]" 

"  To  get  rid  of  your  nonsense,  and  hear  what  your 
sensible  friend  is  saying,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  laughingly 
placed  herself  on  the  sofa  beside  Mowbray,  who  was 
summing  up  his  evidence  against  Lord  Bolingbroke  as 
being  such  a  bad  husband.  "  Lord  Chatham,"  contin- 
ued he,  "  expresses  his  surprise,  on  going  to  see  Lord 
Bolingbroke  when  an  old  man  at  Battersea,  to  find  him 
pedantic,  fretful,  and  angry  with  his  wife  ;  but  I  am  not 
the  least  surprised ;  there  was  no  longer  a  motive  for 
display ;  he  was  too  old  to  recollect  that  Lord  Chatham 
might  perhaps  record  the  latter  fact,  or  else,  doubtless, 
he  would  never  have  put  it  in  his  power  to  do  so." 

"  D — d  nonsense,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford,  as  he  took  his 
hat  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

Herbert  Grimstone,  who  had  been  trying  in  vain  for 
the  last  half  hour  to  get  up  a  flirtation  with  Mrs.  Sey- 
mour, soon  followed  his  brother's  example,  for  Saville 
and  Mowbray  were  growing  dreadfully  agreeable,  and 
he  had  a  constitutional  dislike  to  agreeable  people,  for 
the  same  reason  that  some  persons  dislike  flowers  in  a 
room,  because  they  consume  too  much  of  the  oxygen 
necessary  for  their  owii  respiration,  and  attention  being 
the  oxygen  of  vanity.  Herbert  Grimstone  always  suf- 
fered from  the  malaria  of  agreeability ;  so,  cramming  a 
newspaper  into  his  pocket,  then  stretching  both  his 
arms  above  his  head,  and  yawning,  he  turned  to  Mrs. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  109 

SBymour  with  an  ironical  smile,  and  an  air  which  he 
meant  to  be  that  of  a  De  Grammont,  and  said, 

"  I  think  I  deserve  credit  for  my  self-denial,  in  being 
able  to  leave  so  much  wit  and  so  much  beauty." 

"  At  least,"  replied  his  tormentor,  "  you  deserve  cred- 
it for  your  honesty  in  not,  amid  such  a  profusion,  taking 
away  a  particle  of  either!"  From  that  moment  Mrs. 
Seymour  did  what  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  for 
a  pretty  and  a  clever  woman  to  do,  namely,  lost  a  dan- 
gler and  gained  an  enemy  ;  but  in  this  instance  she  had 
the  bad  taste  to  prefer  the  latter  to  the  former. 

Madame  de  A.  had  been  very  busy  preparing  for  her 
masquerade,  which  was  to  take  place  at  Venice  early 
in  the  ensuing  week;  and  as  she  had  determined  upon 
having  a  game  of  piquet  played  with  living  cards,  Fanny 
had  been  exerting  all  her  inventive  powers  in  designing 
dresses  for  the  court  cards  that  would  not  prevent  their 
moving  about.  "  Only  fancy  my  having  been  so  busy," 
said  she,  "  about  those  card  dresses,  that  I  have  never 
opened  that  packet  of  books  whicli  came  from  England 
this  morning.  1  wish  some  of  you  idle  men  would  have 
the  charity  to  read  out  to  us  poor  industrious  damsels; 
^0,  Mr.  Mowbray,  for  I  have  been  told  by  a  particular 
friend  of  yours  that  you  read  remarkably  well." 

"  So  I  do,"  said  Mowbray,  laughing ;  '*  but  I  assure  you 
my  ])articular  friend  reads  infinitely  better." 

"  A  very  just  observation,"  said  Saville,  in  the  Dowa- 
ger Lady  de  Chfl'ord's  voice,  "  and  does  credit  to  your 
head  and  kori." 

Every  one  laughed  at  Saville's  quotation  and  his  ad- 
mirable mimicry. 

"  When  you  have  done  being  so  vaustly  civil  to  each 
other,"  said  Fanny,  pursuing  the  same  theme,  "  perhaps 
one  of  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  open  that  packet 
and  see  what's  in  it." 

"  There,  my  dear  fellow,  do  j'ou  do  it,"  said  Saville, 
pushing  over  the  huge  parcel  to  Mowbray;  "it  will 
be  a  charity  to  employ  you,  and  prevent  you  pulling  all 
those  poor  innocent  magnolias  to  pieces,  which  never 
did  you  tlie  slightest  harm." 

"  That's  not  true,"  said  Mowbray, "  for  they  have  giv- 
en me  a  terrible  headache." 

Julia  raised  her  eyes  from  her  work  :  "  Pray  try  some 
eau  de  Cologne,"  said  she,  giving  him  a  "  flacon"  out  of 
her  workbasket.     He  soon  felt  most  miraculously  re- 

VoL.  I  — K 


110  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

lieved,  and  pronounced  it  the  best  eau  de  Cologne  he 
had  ever  met  with. 

"  Well,  what  books  are  these  V  inquired  Fanny,  see- 
ing that  Mowbray  was  reading  all  the  titlepages  to  him- 
self. 

"  Every  sort  you  can  possibly  desire  :  memoirs,  dia- 
ries, biography,  novels,  essays,  magazines,  poems,  '  ad 
infinitum  ;'  which  will  you  have  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  poetry,  certainly  !"  said  every  one  unani- 
mously, "  unless  it  is  Moore's,  Mrs.  Heman's,  or  L.  E. 
L.'s." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  Mowbray,  "  for  1  have  opened 
upon  some  exceedingly  pretty  poetry,  though  written  by 
a  person  whose  name  I  nor  you  never  heard  before,  a 
Mr.  Charles  Mackea." 

"  The  name  is  not  euphonius,  at  all  events,"  said  Sa- 
ville. 

"  No,  but  the  verses  are." 

It  has  been  remarked,  that  when  we  are  under  the 
influence  of  any  particular  passion  or  circumstances,  we 
rarely  open  a  book  which  does  not  seem  addressed  di- 
rectly to  our  situation.  This  had  been  the  case  with 
Mowbray  in  opening  the  little  volume  in  question ;  be- 
sides, it  was  a  favourite  subterfuge  of  his,  to  make  the 
words  of  others  speak  for  him  ;  thoughts  he  dared  not 
breathe  to  her,  thoughts  which  he  dared  not  own,  even  to 
himself,  came  with  apparent  guilelessness  from  another. 
How  much  subtile,  honeyed,  yet  deadly  poison,  had  he 
by  this  means  distilled  into  Julia's  ear;  how  much  dan- 
ger had  stolen  through  that  low,  deep,  soft,  wooing  voice 
into  the  very  lifesprings  of  its  victim  !  Like  the  plague- 
blast  passing  over  the  flowery  vale  of  the  Arno,  which 
was  rendered  more  destructive  by  the  very  sweets  it 
acquired.*  No  wonder,  then,  that,  on  such  occasions, 
there  was  a  deep  pathos  in  the  tones  of  Mowbray's  at 
all  times  touching  and  beautiful  voice,  which  drew  forth 
unqualified  admiration  from  his  auditors,  and  led  poor 
Julia  into  the  error  of  thinking  that,  in  her  admiration  of 
him,  she  was  only  indulging  a  general,  and  not  a  partic- 
ular feeling. 

"  Well,"  said  Fanny,  "  if  it  is  not  very  long,  we  will 

*  When  the  plague  raged  at  Florence  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
those  who  retired  to  Fiesole  for  safety  fell  victims  to  a  worse  species 
of  infection,  from  the  pestilence  gaining  additional  venom  by  the  at-  - 
mosphere  being  so  impregnated  with  the  perfume  of  flowers. 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  Ill 

allow  you  to  read  the  poem  you  have  volunteered  to 
stand  sponsor  for." 

Mowbray  was  too  anxious  to  express  some  of  the 
thoughts  contained  in  it  to  wait  for  another  command ; 
and  having  drawn  his  chair  closer  to  tlie  table,  or,  in 
other  words,  closer  to  Juha's,  lie  began  the  following 
very  beautiful 

"  PRAYER  OF  ADAM  ALONE  IN  PARADISE. 

"  O  Father,  hear  ! 
Thou  knowst  my  secret  thought. 
Thou  knowst  with  love  and  fear 

I  bend  before  thy  mighty  throne, 
And  before  thee  I  hold  myself  as  naught. 

Alas !  I'm  in  the  world  alone  ! 
All  desolate  upon  the  earth  ; 

And  when  my  spirit  hears  the  tone, 
The  soft  song  of  the  birds  m  mirth, 
When  the  young  nightingales 
Their  tender  voices  blend, 

When  from  the  flowery  vales 
Their  hymns  of  love  ascend  ; 
O,  then  I  fuel  there  is  a  void  for  me  ! 
A  bliss  too  little  m  this  world  so  fair ; 

To  thee,  O  Father,  do  I  flee  : 
To  thee  for  solace  breathe  the  prayer. 
And  when  the  rosy  morn 

Smiles  on  the  dewy  trees. 
When  music's  voice  is  borne 
Far  on  the  gentle  breeze  ; 
When  o'er  the  bowers  I  stray, 

The  fairest  friiits  to  bring, 
And  on  thy  shrine  to  lay 

A  fervent  oftisring ; 
Father  of  many  spheres  \ 
When  bending  thus  before  thy  throne, 

My  spirit  weeps  with  silent  tears, 
To  think  that  I  must  pray  alone  ! 

And  when  at  evening's  twilight  dim. 
When  troubled  slumber  shuts  mine  eye, 

And  when  the  gentle  seraphim 
Bend  from  their  bright  homes  in  the  sky ; 
When  angels  walk  the  quiet  earth. 
To  glory  in  creation's  birth. 
Then,  Father,  in  my  dreams  1  see 

A  gentle  being  o'er  me  bent. 
Radiant  with  love,  and  like  to  me. 

But  of  a  softer  lineament ; 
I  strive  to  clasp  her  to  my  heart, 

That  we  may  live  and  he  but  one — 
Ah,  wherefore,  lovely  beam,  depart? 
Why  must  1  wake  oMlfind  thee  gone  ? 


112  cheveley;  or. 

Almighty,  in  thy  wisdom  high, 
Thou  saidst  that  when  I  sin  I  die  ; 
And  once  my  spirit  could  not  see 
How  that  which  is,  could  cease  to  ba 
Death  was  a  vague,  untathom'd  thing. 

On  which  the  thought  forbore  to  dwell ; 
But  love  has  oped  its  secret  spring, 
And  now  I  know  it  well ! 
To  die  must  be  tn  live  alone, 
Unloved,  uncherish'd,  and  unknown. 
Without  the  sweet  one  of  my  dreams, 

To  cull  the  fragrant  flowers  with  me. 
To  wander  by  the  morning's  beams. 

And  raise  the  hymn  of  thanks  to  thee. 
But  Father  of  the  earth. 

Lord  of  the  boundless  sphere  ! 
If  'tis  thy  iiigh  unchanging  will 

That  I  should  Imger  here, 
if  'tis  thy  will  that  I  should  rove 

Alone  o'er  Eden's  smiling  Ijowers, 
Grant  that  the  young  birds'  song  of  love 
And  the  breeze  sporting  'mong  the  flowers 
Way  to  my  spirit  cease  to  be 
A  music  and  a  mystery  ! 
Grant  that  my  soul  no  more  may  feel 

The  soft  sounds  breathing  everywhere; 
That  nature's  voice  may  cease  to  hymn 
Love's  universal  prayer ! 

For  all  around,  in  earth  or  sea, 
And  the  blue  heaven's  immensity. 
Whisper  it  forth  in  many  a  tone. 
And  tell  me  1  am  all  alone." 

"  Beautiful !"  said  Fanny ;  "beautiful  I"  echoed  every- 
one except  Julia ;  but  she  had  made  a  great  many  false 
stitches  in  a  rosebud  she  was  embroidering;  she  left 
the  room  to  gel  some  more  silk,  and  when  she  returned 
Mowbray  was  gone. 


THE    MAN   OF   HONOUR.  113 


CHAPTER  XL 

"  Oh!  undeveloped  land, 

-  .V  « loin  wuuiQ  to  Hee, 

What  mighty  hand  shall  break  ench  bsnd 

That  keeps  my  soul  from  thee  .' 
In  vain  1  pine,  and  sigh 

To  trace  thy  dells  and  streams, 
They  gleam  but  by  the  spectral  sky 

That  lights  my  shifting  dreams." 
«•**•*♦*♦ 

From  the  German  ©/"LuDWlo  TiEK. 

"  If  the  bright  lake  lay  stilly 

When  whirlwinds  arose  to  deform, 
If  the  life  of  the  lily 

Were  charm'd  against  the  storm, 
Thou  mightst,  though  human. 

Have  smiled  through  the  saddest  of  years — 
Thou  inightst,  though  woman, 

Have  livod  unacquainted  with  tears  I" 
From  the  Gcrmaji  of  Jo tiA.K{i  Thkodor  Drecusler. 

There  is  but  one  real  actual  present  on  earth,  but  one 
period  in  which  we  feel  our  own  identity  independent 
of  our  imagination,  and  that  is  the  time  we  pass  with 
the  one  we  love ;  tlie  mere  sense  of  existence  is  then 
an  all-sufficient  happiness,  and  this  sense  it  is  which 
alone  can  rivet  or  create  for  us  that  vague  thing,  the 
present.  The  reason  is  obvious  :  then,  and  then  only, 
the  boundless  void  of  the  human  heart  is  filled ;  then 
alone  we  want  nothing  beyond  what  we  have  ;  and  this 
it  is  that  constitutes  the  actual,  the  present.  So  all- 
pervading  is  this  feeling,  that,  in  the  presence  of  a  be- 
loved object,  we  dread  even  thinking  our  own  thoughts, 
lest  the  illusion,  the  spell  of  consciousness,  whic!h  is 
then  in  itself  happiness,  should  be  broken ;  lest  the  wild 
and  swift-winged  present  should  be  startled  into  flight, 
never  to  return. 

This  mystenous  presence  alone  has  the  power  of 
bringing  all  our  widely-ranged  feelings,  thoughts,  and 
passions  into  one  focus ;  quit  it  but  a  moment,  and  then 
do  our  jarring  atoms  again  separate,  to  war  within  us 
like  chaotic  spirits  stniggling  for  pre-eminence ;  mem- 
ory turning  us  back,  hope  leading  us  forward,  jealousy 
K3 


114  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

maddening,  fear  chaining,  suspense  taunting,  despair 
paralyzing  us ;  all  lasliing  us  over  the  shoals  and  quick- 
sands of  our  own  individuality,  from  the  far  but  pleas- 
ant seas  of  the  past,  into  the  unknown  and  unfatliom- 
able  ones  of  the  future.  But  the  present— where  is  it  ? 
gone !  fallen,  like  a  star  from  its  sphere ;  and  we  ask 
our  hearts,  but  ask  in  vain,  "  Will  it  ever  return?  will 

:_  u^  „  »^^/^c•ont  for  us  '?" 

ti'icre  ever  ugaui  u^.  ^  ^..^^^.. 

It  was  now  the  beginning  of  September,  and  Loru  uu 
ClitTord  had  decided  upon  leaving  Milan  for  Rome  by 
the  end  of  the  month :  they  were  to  take  Venice  in 
their  way,  on  account  of  Madame  de  A.'s  ball.  It 
seemed  to  Julia  as  if  this  ball  was  to  be  the  last  place 
where  she  would  meet,  where  she  would  be  with,  Mow- 
bray. Twenty  times  a  day  her  lips  repeated,  "  I  hope 
it  may ;  it  is  better  that  it  should ;"  and  then  a  chill  ran 
through  her  veins,  and  a  faintness  stole  over  her,  that 
seemed  like  the  prelude  to  dissolution.  It  is  one  of  the 
greatest  punishments  of  illicit  love,  that  it  compels  us 
to  make  a  penthouse  of  our  own  hearts,  for  the  two 
most  corroding  of  human  feelings,  shame  and  sorrow. 
In  all  other  afflictions  we  can  claim  and  receive  that 
greatest  of  earthly  anodynes,  sympathy;  but  unlawful 
love  is  a  parricide,  that  stales  the  heart  which  gave  it 
birth  :  it  occasions  a  sort  of  personal  civil  war  between 
our  conscience  and  our  affections ;  and,  like  all  otiier 
civil  wars,  it  generally  ends  in  the  destruction  of  our 
best  interests. 

In  order  to  banish  the  ever-recurring  remembrance 
of  Mowbray,  Julia  had  tried,  but  tried  in  vain,  to  elicit  a 
word,  a  look,  however  transient,  of  kindness  from  her 
husband :  if  he  had  shown,  or  even  affected  to  show, 
the  slightest  interest  in  her,  she  felt  she  could  reso- 
lutely have  banished  every  unworthy  feeling  from  her 
heart.  But  no  ;  he  preferred  every  one's,  or  any  one's 
society  to  hers  :  they  had  not  a  thought,  a  feeling  in 
common.  She  felt  herself  a  sort  of  human  spider, 
whose  destiny  it  was  to  extract  poison  from  everything. 
She  had  all  the  disadvantages,  without  any  of  the  ad- 
vantages, of  marriage ;  for  to  the  most  humihating  neg- 
lect. Lord  de  Clifford  contrived  to  unite  the  most  har- 
assing and  degrading  surveillance ;  as  his  wife,  he  thought 
no  one  could  pay  her  sufficient  respect ;  but  to  herself 
individually,  when  he  could  separate  her  identity  from 
her  position,  which  he  did  with  regard  to  his  own  fanv 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  115 

ily,  no  contempt  was  too  offensive :  the  boundless  lax- 
ity of  his  principles  with  regard  to  the  privileges  of  his 
own  sex,  led  him  not  only  into  a  total  disregard  of  her 
feehngs,  but  into  a  disregard  for  all  the  conveniences 
of  society  :  provided  it  gave  him  pleasure,  he  thought  it 
his  wife's  duty( !)  to  feel  a  rebound  of  dehght  at  seeing 
him  make  love  to  another  woman  before  her  face  ;  and, 
as  is  always  the  case  with  men  who  frame  such  a  lib- 
eral code  for  themselves,  his  ideas  of  female  propriety 
'  •'"'^  arbitrary,  in  an  inverse  ratio. 

were  nanw..   ^. ,  •     ...    r„_  :♦„  <•,_ 

Their  child  was  no  cement  between  inem,  nji  no  .».- 
ther  looked  upon  it  in  no  other  light  than  that  of  an  ad- 
ditional expense  in  his  estabUshment.  But  there  are 
no  feelings  so  hardening  and  demoralizing  as  egotism 
and  selfishness ;  and  Lord  de  Clifford  had  both  pre-em- 
inently. Egotism  is  indeed  the  theory  of  selfishness ; 
and  selfishness,  the  practice  of  that  theorj^,  about  the 
only  one,  unfortunately,  which  human  nature  is  infalli- 
ble in  carrying  into  action. 

The  night  before  tliey  were  to  leave  Milan,  Julia  had, 
with  a  weakness  that  is  human  (but  for  that  reason  not 
the  more  pardonable),  made  a  collection  of  all  the 
gloves  and  ribands  she  had  worn  on  the  days  and  even- 
ings she  had  passed  with  Mowbray,  and  all 

"  Those  token-flowers,  which  tell 
"What  words  can  never  speak  so  well," 

which  he  had  given  her.  She  was  ashamed  and  afraid 
that  her  maid  should  either  see  or  suspect  this  transac- 
tion, and  had  therefore  sealed  them  up  herself,  and  was 
going  to  deposite  them  in  her  jewel-box  in  her  dressing- 
room,  when,  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  she  met  Beryl, 
looking  as  only  ladies'  maids  can  look  when  they  are 
"  big  with  the  fate  of"  hats,  caps,  blondes,  and  velvets, 
and  the  progress  of  their  packing  has  been  impeded  by 
some  unlucky  "  contreteins." 

"  I'm  Sony  to  say,  my  lady,"  said  the  irrate  Abigail, 
"  that,  as  usual,  Mr.  Herbert  is  with  my  lord  in  your 
dressing-room,  smoking  away,  and  spoiling  everything. 
I  only  just  went  down  to  supper  (after  Mr.  Carlton  had 
been  up  for  me  twice),  and  left  the  Imperial,  with  all 
your  court  dresses  in  it,  wide  open,  and  the  cap-case, 
•with  your  Huguenot  chip  hat,  and  the  two  new  Moab- 
ite  turbans,  from  Herbault's,  all  at  sixes  and  sevens,  not 
meaning  to  be  away  ten  minutes ;  nor  was  I,  for  I  never 


116  cheveley;  or, 

take  a  second  glass  of  their  nasty  sour  wine ;  and  when 
1  came  up,  I  found  my  lord  and  Mr.  Gnmstone  ui  full 
possession.     I  wish   I'd  had   the   sense  to   lock   the 

"  Never  mind,  Beryl ;  I'll  go  to  Lord  de  Clifford's 
dressing-room." 

"  Oh,  but  there's  no  fire  there,  my  lady,  and  you  11  be 
perished.  The  chimney  smokes  so,  one  can't  light  a 
fire  ;  that's  the  reason  they're  in  your  room.  >'vo  --^ 
patience  with  thei-n"  '—•*•    ^  .'  \~ /^^ 

r     "^  ...,    „.ui,i.ereu  lieryl,  as  she  took  the 

ngnt  out  of  Lady  de  Clifford's  hand,  and  preceded  her 
to  little  Julia's  room. 

"  I've  no  patience  with  them  ;  I  call  it  quite  undeli- 
cate  hke,  always  muddling  and  moUy-coddhng  in  a 
lady's  dressing-room  I  But  things  is  always  ten  times 
worse  whenever  Mr.  Herbert's  here." 

"  Thank  you.  Beryl,  you  may  go,"  said  Lady  de 
Clifford,  as  she  flung  herself  into  a  "  bergere"  by  her 
child's  bedside  ;  "  I  don't  want  you  any  more  to-night." 

"  But,  dear  me,  how  ill  you  look,  my  lady  !  Pray  let 
me  get  you  something — a  little  sal  volatile,  or  some 
arqviebesand." 

"  No,  nothing,  thank  you,  Beryl ;  it's  only  a  head- 
ache.    I  sliall  be  better  in  the  morning." 

"  I  wish  ihey  were  all  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  so  I 
do !"  said  Beryl  to  herself  as  she  closed  the  door, 
"  for  teasing  of  her  as  they  do.  But  it's  all  along  of 
that  wicked  old  woman — I  know  it  is.  But  it  will 
come  home  to  her  yet  in  some  way  or  other,  or  my 
name  is  not  Beryl ;  if  it  was  only  her  conduct  about 
poor  Mary  Lee." 

When  Julia  was  alone,  she  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of 
tears  as  she  knelt  down  to  kiss  her  sleeping  child.  "  Poor 
little  thing !"  said  she,  "  have  I  not  you  to  love  me  and 
to  love  ■?  and  what  more  love  ought  I  to  want]  Thank 
God,  that  you  are  a  girl,  too  !  You  will  never  neglect 
or  desert  me  ;  you  are  my  child !  I  have,  then,  some- 
thing belonging  to  me ;  something  to  care  for  me, 
dearer  even  tlian  Fanny.  Happy  Fanny !  innocent 
Fanny  !  how  you  would  blush  for  your  unworthy  sister, 
could  you  see  into  her  frail  and  erring  heart !  Oh ! 
Father,"  continued  she,  passionately  clasping  her  hands 
and  raising  her  streaming  eyes  to  heaven,  "pass  away 
from  me  this  great,  this  deadly  sin ;  fill  my  heart  with 
love  of  Thee  only,  and  send  down  upon  me  thy  grace, 


THE    MAN   OF   HONOUR.  117 

which  has  alone  power  to  combat  and  to  conquer  the 
evil  one  within  me !"  The  large  hot  tears  that  fell  fast 
from  Julia's  eyes  on  the  calm  and  velvet  cheek  of  her 
sleeping  child,  caused  the  latter  to  stir  ;  in  doing  so,  she 
opened  and  stretched  out  one  of  her  little  hands  towards 
her  mother.  Child-like,  she  had  gone  to  bed  with  a 
present  Mowbray  had  given  her,  of  a  little  Venetian 
chain  and  enamel  watch.  The  design  of  the  watch 
was  two  little  angels'  heads,  with  wings  of  brilliants 
and  purple  enamel,  with  tlie  motto  of  "  They  will 
watch  over  you,"  encircling  in  a  glory  tiie  ang«ls' 
heads.  She  had  clasped  this  'trinket  closely,  but  in 
opening  her  little  hand  it  fell  on  her  mother's  boson\. 
The  unhappy  are  always  superstitious — for  tlie  same 
reason  that  a  drowning  wretch  catches  at  a  straw. 
Julia's  eyes  fell  upon  the  words,  "  They  will  watch 
over  you."  To  her  excited  feelings  they  seemed  like 
a  blessed  and  immediate  answer  to  her  prayer  ;  and 
the  prayer  of  thanks  her  heart  now  offered  up  was 
more  fervent  even  than  that  of  supphcation  which  the 
same  heart  had  utt.red  a  few  minutes  before.  Among 
the  many  privileges  granted  to  us  by  an  all-wise  and 
merciful  Creator,  that  of  prayer  is  unquestionably  the 
greatest.  Amid  the  floodgates  of  light  opened  to  us 
in  the  scheme  of  our  redemption,  the  commandment  to 
pray  is  indisputably  the  brightest ;  for  it  is  the  passport 
the  soul  receives  from  above,  without  which  it  could 
have  no  chance  of  returning  thither.  Of  the  efficacy  of 
prayer,  none  can  doubt  who  have  ever,  through  its  me- 
dium, "  cast  their  burden  upon  Him"  who  alone  can 
lighten  it ;  of  its  necessity  all  must  be  convinced,  from 
the  ejaculations  of  the  most  hardened  and  unbelieving  : 
for  no  sooner  do  the  waters  of  affliction  close  over 
their  souls,  than  their  first  impulse  is  to  call  upon  and 
appeal  to  their  God.  Like  the  drowning  Peter,  they 
cry,  "Help,  Lord,  or  I  perish!"  and  till  the  divine 
assistance  is  held  out  to  them,  the  storm  rages,  and 
destruction  seems  inevitable  ;  but,  like  the  frail  disciple, 
they  no  sooner  ask  than  they  obtain.  The  very  act 
of  prayer  in  itself  calms  and  mitigates  the  bitterest 
trials,  for  we  feel  that  we  are  returning  them  to  him 
who  sent  them ;  and  if  they  are  not  suited  to  us,  they 
will  be  removed,  and  if  they  are,  he  will  enable  us  to 
bear  them.  What  is  so  likely  to  restore  the  soul  to 
that  lost  divinity,  which  the  greatest  of  pagan  philoso- 


118  CHEVELEV  ;    OR, 

phers  so  beautifully  supposed  it  once  to  have  possess- 
ed, as  prayer,  which  is,  in  other  words,  an  intercourse 
with  God!  Even  if  we  had  not  the  truths  of  revelation 
to  commend  it  to  us,  we  should  still  have  the  most 
pure  and  truthlike  structure  of  philosophy  to  lure  us  to 
it;  for,  in  the  words  of  Schlegel,  Plato  imagined  that, 
"  from  an  original  and  infinitely  more  lofty  and  intel- 
lectual state  of  existence,  there  remains  to  man  a 
dark  remembrance  of  divinitj'^  and  perfection ;  and, 
further,  that  this  inborn  and  implanted  recollection  of 
the  Godlike  remains  ever  dark  and  mysterious :  for 
man  is  surrounded  by  the  sensible  world,  which,  being 
in  itself  changeable  and  imperfect,  encircles  him  with 
images  of  imperfection,  changeableness,  and  error,  and 
thus  cast  perpetual  obscurity  over  that  light  which  is 
within  him."  And  Avhat  is  there  so  likely  to  lead  the 
immortal  link  of  our  natures  back  to  the  severed  chain 
of  its  divinity,  as  a  constant  communion  with  its  eter- 
nal source  ]  Gratitude  should  make  the  happy  pray — 
alas  !  how  seldom  does  it  do  so !  But  prayer  is  the 
only  safety-valve  of  sorrow ;  the  heart  would  break 
without  it.  If,  then,  prosperity  and  this  world's  good 
so  chills  and  hardens  the  heart  in  its  heavenward 
course,  happy  are  they  whose  afflictions  strike  on 
their  souls,  like  the  rod  of  Moses  on  the  rock,  to 
make  the  living  waters  of  their  salvation  gush  forth. 
Julia  rose  up  a  happier,  and,  as  she  hoped,  a  better 
person ;  but,  alas  for  human  virtue !  between  its  firmest 
resolves  and  the  most  trifling  circumstances  that  sur- 
round it,  it  resembles  the  traveller  in  the  fable  of  the 
"  Sun  and  the  Wind  :"  what  force  could  never  do,  the 
merest  trifle  often  achieves.  Lady  de  Chffbrd  had  just 
made  a  solemn  determination  that  she  would  not 
even  think  of  Mowbray ;  she  had  taken  her  candle  for 
the  purpose  of  retiring  to  rest,  and  sleeping  upon  so 
good  a  resolution,  when  she  heard  her  husband's  voice 
calling  to  her  at  the  end  of  the  gallery. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  she  had  opened  the  door, 
"  I  wish  you'd  just  write  a  line  to  Mowbray,  and  say 
we  can  take  him  to  Venice  to-morrow  if  he  likes ; 
there  will  be  plenty  of  room,  as  my  mother  has  her  own 
carriage,  and  Fanny  is  going  with  Mrs.  Seymour ;  and 
you  may  as  well  write  a  note  to  that  poor  devil  De  Ri- 
voli,  and  say  Herbert  can  take  him." 

Write  to  Monsieur  De  Rivoli !  that  was  easy  enough ; 


THE  MAN    OF   HONOUR.  119 

but  write  to  Mowbray !  Julia  trembled  like  an  aspen 
leaf.  What  would  he  think  ?  What  could  he  think  but 
the  truth,  that  she  had  obeyed  her  husband's  orders  ? 
"  How  silly  I  am  !"  said  she  ;  "  it  is  my  own  conscious- 
ness that  makes  it  so  formidable.  Of  course,  he  ^v^ll 
scarcely  look  at  the  note,  and  won't  know  who  it  is 
written  by ;  at  least,  I  mean  he'll  forget  it  the  next  mo- 
ment." Tliis  Julia  felt  was  not  true,  and  she  blushed 
at  her  childibh  folly  in  trying  to  deceive  herself  Three 
times  she  dipped  the  pen  into  the  ink  before  she  could 
make  a  beginning ;  and  the  third  time  she  dropped  the 
ink  upon  her  har.d.  Macbeth  could  scarcely  have  felt 
more  frightened  at  the  drops  of  blood.  At  length  she 
began,  "  Lord  de  Clifford  has  begged  of  me  to  say — " 
but  that  did  not  do ;  she  felt  there  ought  to  be  a  com- 
monplace beginning,  so  she  thus  recommenced  : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Mowbray,  Lord  de  Clifford  has  begged 
nie  to  say  that  he  can  take  you  to  Venice  to-morrow, 
for  Madame  De  A.'s  ball  on  Thursday;  we  leave  this 
at  one  o'clock. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Mowbray,  truly  yours, 

"  Julia  de  Clifford." 
"  Palazzo,  Monday  night." 

When  she  had  concluded  this  difficult  epistle,  the 
words  looked  like  icicles  to  her ;  then  again  the  "  dear" 
and  the  "  yours"  looked  too  much,  which  occasioned 
another  ten  minutes'  deliberation.  The  next  precau- 
tion was  to  hunt  for  a  plain  seal ;  that  done,  the  bell 
was  at  length  rung,  and  the  note  despatched  ;  but  not 
till  Beryl  had  been  recalled  to  wait  while  one  was  writ- 
ten to  poor  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  who  would  have  found 
it  difficult  to  believe  that  any  woman  in  existence  could 
have  been  guilty  of  the  bad  taste  of  so  totally  forgetting 
him.  When  Julia's  note  reached  the  Alliergo  Reale, 
Mowbray  liad  been  in  bed  some  time ;  but  there  is  an 
extraordinary  intuition  about  servants,  which  always 
makes  them  better  acquainted  with  their  master's  and 
mistress's  affairs  than  they  are  even  themselves.  Con- 
sequently, when  Lady  de  Clifford's  note  was  put  into 
the  hands  of  Mowbray's  valet,  without  any  fear  of  his 
master's  indignation  for  disturbing  his  slumbers,  he  in- 
stantly repaired  with  it  to  his  bedside ;  not,  however, 
before  he  had  bestowed  a  hearty  malediction  upon  those 
tiresome  envelopes,  "  which  prevent  one  finding  out  a 


120  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

single  word  in  a  letter  till  the  seal  is  broken,"  and  a 
"  wonder  that  the  gentlefolks  should  use  them,  now  they 
was  got  so  common." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Sanford  V  said  Mowbray,  start- 
ing up,  awakened  by  the  opening  of  the  door. 

"  Beg  your  pardon  ;  nothing,  sir,  only  a  note  from  La- 
dy de  Clifford"  (for  on  such  occasions  servants  invari- 
ably announce  the  author  of  the  credentials  they  present, 
however  they  contrive  to  find  it  out  so  accurately  as 
they  do) ;  "  only  a  note  from  Lady  de  Clifford ;  and  I  did 
not  know  whether  it  required  an  answer." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Mowbray,  snatching  it  off  the 
salver,  as  if  he  thought  it  had  been  contaminated  by 
laying  there  so  lohg.  "Bring  me  the  pen  and  ink,  and 
a  blotting  book,  and  wait  in  the  next  room  till  I  call." 

As  soon  as  he  was  alone,  he  tore  open  the  seal,  but 
for  full  five  minutes  the  words  swam  before  his  eyes,  so 
he  could  not  distinguish  one  from  another.  What  a 
mysterious  feeling  is  that  which  we  experience  upon 
beholding,  for  the  first  time,  the  writing  of  the  person 
■we  love  addressed  to  ourselves  !  However  common- 
place the  subject  and  the  words  may  be,  yet  to  us  they 
have  a  meaning  and  a  mystery  the  same  words  never 
.  had  before  and  never  will  have  again  :  they  are  looked 
upon  again  and  again  in  every  possible  direction ;  we 
try  to  discover  if  our  own  names  are  written  more  clear- 
ly or  more  tremblingly  than  the  rest,  and  in  either  case 
our  hearts  are  satisfied  with  the  omen.  Even  the  pa- 
per is  scrutinized  to  its  very  edges,  as  though  we  had 
never  seen  a  sheet  of  paper  before,  or  if  that  sheet  of 
paper  must,  of  necessity,  be  different  and  superior  to  any 
that  had  been  previously  made,  like  characters  traced 
in  milk,  which  are  weak  and  invisible,  till  exposed  to  the 
heat  of  the  fire  :  each  time  we  gaze  on  this  mysterious 
paper,  the  warmth  of  our  imagination  brings  out  a  force 
and  a  meaning  that  was  imperceptible  before ;  then  every 
word  is  kissed  as  passionately  as  if  it  were  the  lips  that 
could  have  uttered  them.  So  long  a  time  had  elapsed 
while  Mowbray  was  thus  employed,  that  Sanford  reap- 
peared unbidden,  having  had  recourse  to  that  expedient 
of  all  his  order,  "  Did  you  ring,  sir  ]"  At  length  Mow- 
bray despatched  the  following  answer : 

"  Will  you,  my  dear  Lady  de  Clifford,  return  De  Clif- 
ford my  best  thanks  for  his  kind  offer  of  conveying  me 


THE    MAN    OP    HONOUR.  121 

to  Venice,  of  which  (if  I  shall  not  crowd  you)  I  shall  be 
too  happy  to  avail  myself. 

"  Ever  believe  me, 

"  My^  dear  Lady  de  Clifford, 
"Most  faithfully  yours, 

"  Augustus  Mowbray." 

A  few  days  before,  anticipating  at  least  a  temporary 
separation  from  Julia,  Mowbray  had  had  a  seal  engraved 
with  the  following  motto : 

"  L'absence  est  la  mort, 
Mais  la  memoire  c'est 
L'lmmortalil^ !" 

With  this  seal  he  now  sealed  his  note,  and  then  pass- 
ed the  rest  of  the  niglit  in  reading  and  re-reading  Lady 
de  Clifford's  little  perfumed  billet.  What  sweet  links 
are  perfumes  and  music  in  the  chain  of  memory !  hovv 
vividly  do  particular  airs  and  odours  recall  to  us  partic- 
ular persons,  especially  the  latter !  Who  is  there  that 
has  ever  loved,  who  has  not  felt  the  truth  of  Ben  Jon- 
son's  beautiful  conceit  of — 

"  I  sent  thee  late  a  rosie  wreath, 

Not  so  much  honouring  tliee, 
As  giving  It  a  hope  that  there 

It  could  not  wither'il  bee. 
But  thou  thereon  duist  only  breathe, 

And  senl'st  it  back,  to  inee  : 
Since  when  it  growes,  and  smells,  I  sweare, 

Not  of  itselfe,  but  thee  !" 

Beryl  brought  Lady  de  Clifford's  chocolate  at  least  an 
hour  earlier  on  the  following  morning,  and  with  it  Mow- 
bray's and  Monsieur  de  Rivoli's  answer ;  half  an  hour 
after  which,  she  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  bath-room, 
with  a  message  from  Lord  de  Clifford,  to  know  what 
answer  Mowbray  and  Monsieur  de  Rivoli  had  sent. 

"  Oh,  they  both  come,"  said  Julia.  "  Dear  me,  what 
have  I  done  with  Mr.  Mowbray's  note  1  I  have  mislaid 
it !"  It  was  lucky  for  her  that  Beryl  was  employed  in 
placing  a  pair  of  slippers  on  a  "  prie  dieu,"  and  throwing 
a  "  peignoir"  on  the  back  of  it,  or  she  must  have  per- 
ceived the  crimson  denial  Lady  de  Clifford's  cheeks  gave 
to  her  w^ords  :  "  but  here  is  the  other,"  continued  she, 
handing  over  Monsieur  de  Rivoli's  parallelogramish  epis- 

VoL.  L— L 


122  CHEVELEY  ;   OR, 

tie,  with  its  huge   Cham-of-Tartary-looking  seal,  the 
contents  of  which  was  in  the  following  characteristic 

words : 

"  Ma  ch^re  Lady  de  Clifford, 
*'  Hereux  de  vous  plaire,  je  suis  toujours  a  vos  or- 
dres. 

"  Votre  toute  dfevouee, 

"  Charles  de  Rivoli." 

Little  Julia  had  begged  of  her  mother  to  let  her  (as 
she  expressed  it)  go  and  wish  the  poor  cathedral  good- 
by  before  they  left  Milan.  Accordingly,  as  soon  as  she 
was  dressed,  they  set  out  for  it,  leaving  word,  when  the 
carriages  were  ready,  to  pick  tliem  up  there.  They 
had  been  for  the  last  time  to  the  top  of  the  belfry,  and 
were  descending,  when  they  met  MoAvbray  and  Mon- 
sieur de  Rivoli,  who,  having  been  to  the  palazzo,  had 
been  told  that  Lady  de  Clifford  had  gone  to  the  cathe- 
dral; and  dreading  that,  if  they  went  in,  tliey  should 
be  condemned  to  one  of  Herbert  Grimstone's  quin- 
tessence of  self-conversations  (for,  as  Pope  and  Swift 
said  of  Gay,  he  "  always  laboured  under  a  painful  in- 
tenseness  about  his  own  affairs"),  or  else  break  in  upon 
some  of  the  Dowager  Lady  de  Clifford's  complicated 
travelling  preliminaries,  they  decided  upon  not "  walking 
in  and  sitting  down,"  as  they  had  been  requested  to  do, 
but  going  "  ex  cathedra"  to  meet  Lady  de  CUfford. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  said  she,  "  that  you  should  have  had 
the  trouble  of  coming  here." 

"  Nothing  can  be  a  trouble,"  said  Mowbray,  "  which 
obtains  for  one  the  happiness  of  seeing  you." 

"  '  E  vero  vero  !' "  said  a  voice  with  a  sigh ;  the  same 
voice  and  the  same  sigh  that  had  so  mysteriously  re- 
sponded to  a  remark  of  Mowbray's  two  months  before, 
when  he  stood  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Carlos  of  Borromeo. 

"  How  extraordinary,"  said  he, "  that  that  voice  should 
always  answer  me,  and  in  the  very  same  words,  too, 
whenever  I  come  here !  and  still  more  that  those  words 
should  be  always  '  a-propos  !'  " 

"  Ha !  ha !"  laughed  Monsieur  de  Rivoli ;  "  it  is  de 
Italian  echo  of  de  old  Lady  de  Clifford's  varee  just  ob- 
servation, '  voila  tout  mon  chcr  !'  " 

"  Oh !  what  a  darling  little  bird,"  cried  little  Julia, 
pointing  to  one  that  sat  in  the  nook  of  the  stairs,  "  and 
what  bright  eyes  it  has !" 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  123 

"  E  vero  vero  "."  repeated  the  bird,  as  it  flew  upon  the 
child's  shoulder. 

"  I  am  delighted  that  the  mystery  is  solved,"  said 
Mowbray,  "  for  I  was  growing  quite  superstitious  and 
unhappy ;  but,"  added  he,  securing  the  bird,  "  you  are 
now  a  prisoner  from  this  day ;  not  that  I  would  rob  you 
of  your  liberty  without  giving  you  a  still  greater  bless- 
ing. Lady  de  Clifford,  will  you  take  care  of  this  poor 
little  starling  r' 

Julia  took  the  bird,  and  placed  it  in  her  bosom  till  she 
could  get  a  cage  for  it. 

"  Ah,  quel  doux  esclavage,  ^ela  val  bien  la  liberie !" 
said  Monsieur  de  Rivoli. 

"  E  vero  vero,"  again  echoed  the  bird. 

"  Ah !  I  have  to  tank  you  for  your  aimable  poulet 
of  dis  morning,  Lady  de  Clifford." 

Julia  lauglied,  and  seeing  that  Mowbray  looked  at 
Monsieur  de  Rivoli  rather  indignantly  for  the  term  he 
had  made  use  of,  she  said, 

"  I  wonder  what  the  origin  of  the  word  poulet  was, 
as  applied  to  a  note  V 

"  C'etoient  autrefois  en  Italie,"  said  Monsieur  de  Ri- 
voli, "  les  vendeurs  de  poulets,  qui  portoient  les  billets- 
doux  aux  femmes;  ils  glissoient  le  billet  sous  I'aile  du 
plus  gros,  et  la  dame  averti  ne  manquoit  pas  de  le  pren- 
dre; mais  ce  menage  ayent  ete  decouvert;  le  premier 
messager  d'amour  qui  fut  pris,  fut  puni  par  I'estrapade 
avec  des  poulets  vivants  attaches  aux  pieds.  Depuis  ce 
temps,  poulet  est  synonyme  a  billet-doux."* 

"  So  that,  in  fact,"  said  Mowbray,  "  there  has  always 
heen  foivl  play  towards  the  Marito's." 

"  Ah,  quel  ca'embour  atroce,  c'est  vraiment  digne  de 
Saville,"  said  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  and  he  set  off  with 
little  Julia,  who  had  found  her  way  into  the  street,  in 
full  chase  after  a  butterfly.  Mowbray  and  Lady  de  Chf- 
ford  followed  slowly  after;  neither  of  them  speaking, 
till  the  latter,  seeing  the  carriages  approaching,  and  her 
husband  and  brother-in-law  in  the  first  one,  conscious- 

*The  above  derivation  is  to  be  found  in  M.  le  Mercier's  very 
agreeable  work,  abounding  in  philosophical  acumen  and  just  views, 
entitled,  "  Tableau  de  Paris,"  published  at  Amsterdam,  1783.  The 
author  adds,  like  a  true  Frenchman,  "  Les  commis  ambulants  de  la 
petite  poste,  en  porte  et  rapporlent  sans  cesse  ;  mais  une  cire  fragile 
et  respecte  ticnt  sous  le  voil  ces  secrets  amoureux,  le  marl  prudent 
n'ouore  jamais  les  billets  adress^s  h,  sa  femme !" 


124  CIIEVELEY  ;    OR, 

ness  made  her  speak.  So,  turning  to  Mowbray,  she 
said,  "  "Which  part  of  Italy  do  you  hke  the  best  1" 

He  raised  his  eyes  from  the  ground,  and  looking  full 
in  Juha's,  said,  in  a  low  voice, "  Madame  de  Sevigne  says, 
in  one  of  her  letters  to  her  daughter,  '  Toute  igi  brille 
encore  des  souvenirs  de  vous !' "  And  then  added  in  a 
louder  and  more  disembarrassed  voice,  just  as  Lord  de 
Clifford's  dormeuse  drove  up,  and  Herbert  Grimstone 
jumped  out,  "  /  like  Milan  the  best."  Close  in  the  rear 
followed  the  Dowager  Lady  de  Clifford's  travelling  ve- 
hicle, which  greatly  resembled  a  small,  black,  square 
packing-case  upon  wheels ;  on  the  top  of  which  was 
strapped  a  round  black  leather  muff-box  ;  and  on  the  top 
of  that,  a  large  parrot's  cage  ;  thereby  presenting  a  most 
Pelleon-upon-Ossa'like  appearance ;  in  the  small  coal- 
scuttle-looking rumble  sat  Mrs.  Trump,  in  a  brown 
beaver  bonnet  and  green  veil ;  a  neat  Manchester  cotton 
gown,  and  shawl  to  match,  with  a  further  shelter  of  a 
rough,  brown,  mangy-looking  bearskin  boa :  at  her  side 
roosted  Mr.  Croaker,  her  ladyship's  butler ;  whom,  like 
Madame  Duval,  with  Monsieuer  du  Bois  in  "  Evelina," 
she  "  never  went  nowhere  without  it."  Inside  sat  her 
ladyship,  in  a  bottle-green  cloth  habit,  studded  with  flat 
gi-een  cloth  ipecacuana  lozenge-looking  buttons  ;  but  the 
reverse  of  the  Alps,  who  have  summer  at  their  base 
and  winter  at  their  summit,  her  ladyship  terminated  in 
a  light  lavender-coloured  silk  bonnet  and  a  green  veil. 

"  Well,  my  dears,"  said  she,  stretching  her  head  out 
of  the  window  and  addressing  her  two  sons,  "how 
do  you  mean  to  go?"  As  she  spoke,  Mamselle  d'An- 
toville  (who  sat  beside  her,  in  vain  trying  to  quiet  a  little 
corpulent,  asthmatic,  one-eyed  pug,  whom  "  slumber 
soothed  not,  pleasure  could  not  please!")  cast  a  look 
at  Lord  de  CUfford,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  For  goodness' 
sake  get  me  out  of  thisV  Whereupon  Herbert  frater- 
nally stepped  forward  and  said,  bowing,  and  gallantly 
taking  his  mother's  hand — 

"  My  dear  mamma,  if  you  will  kindly  give  me  a  seat 
in  your  carriage,  I  should  prefer  going  with  you." 

"  My  dear,  I  should  be  very  glad ;  but  a — momselle, 
and  you — see  my  carriage  is  so  small." 

"  Oh,  mi  ladi,  I  would  not  for  de  world  prevent  Mr. 
Grimstone  to  come  in ;  I  am  greatly  oblige  for  your 
kindness  to  take  me  so  far." 

"  A  close  carriage  makes  mademoiselle  ill,  I  know»'* 


THE   MAN    OF   HONOUR.  126 

said  Lord  de  Clifford,  stepping  forward  and  assisting 
his  dulcinea  to  descend. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  her  ladyship,  in  her  blandest  tone, 
*'  I  should  be  vaustly  sorry  that  momselle  should  remain, 
however  I  may  regret  the  loss  of  her  company." 

As  soon  as  mademoiselle  had  safely  alighted,  Herbert 
prepared  to  take  her  place ;  whereupon  his  amiable  pa- 
rent, with  all  the  tender  anxiety  of  a  mother,  fearing 
(as  he  was  only  three-and-thirty)  that  he  would  not  be 
able  to  get  in  with  no  other  assistance  than  that  of  his 
own  servant,  who  stood  at  the  door,  cried  out,  "  Croak- 
er !  Croaker !  be  so  good  as  to  help  Mr.  Herbert  ; 
Frump!  Frump!  how  can  you  be  so  vaustly  stupid; 
why  don't  you  get  down ;  don't  you  see  Mr.  Herbert  a 
going  to  get  into  the  carriage."  While  her  ladyship  was 
making  these  maternal  arrangements.  Lord  de  Clifford 
had  handed  Mademoiselle  d'Antoville  into  his  phaeton, 
and  seated  himself  beside  her ;  consequently,  it  only  re- 
mained for  his  wife  to  take  possession  of  the  britschka, 
with  her  child,  Mowbray,  and  M.  de  Rivoli,  which  she 
accordingly  did.  The  parrot,  getting  impatient  of  delay, 
now  began  to  exert  its  lungs,  and  cry, 

"  Make  haste  !  make  haste !  you  are  so  vaustly  stu- 
pid." 

"  What  a  devilish  clever  bird  that  is  of  yours,  my  dear 
mamma,"  said  Herbert  Grimstone,  almost  deafened  with 
its  scream. 

"  Very  just  observation,"  responded  the  parrot. 

"  I  declare  it's  downright  witty,"  said  Herbert,  with 
a  forced  laugh.  But  the  parrot  did  not  like  to  be  laugh- 
ed at,  so  it  began  to  scream  louder  than  before. 

"  Croaker !  Croaker !"  in  her  turn  screamed  the  dow- 
ager; "bring  down  the  cage,  and  put  it  into  Lady  de 
Clifford's  carriage.  The  fact  is,"  said  she,  turning  to- 
wards Julia,  "  I  brought  it.  Lady  de  Clifford,  thinking  it 
might  be  an  agreeable  addition  to  the  Utile  gurl;  pretty 
dear  !  Polly's  very  pretty,  isn't  she  V 

"  I  hate  it,"  said  the  child ;  "  pray  don't  send  it  here  :" 
but  her  words  were  lost  in  the  sound  of  her  grand- 
mother's chariot  wheels,  while  Monsieur  de  Rivoli's 
voice  was  heard  above  them,  and  even  above  the  crack- 
ing of  all  the  postillions'  whips,  exclaiming,  *'  Mais  diable ! 
vous  avez  des  drolles  idees  de  I'agreable  vous !" 
L2 


126  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  A  young  author  was  reading  a  tragedy  to  Monsieur  Piron,  who 
soon  discovered  that  he  was  a  great  plagiarist.  The  [Kiet,  perceiving 
Piron  very  often  pull  off  his  hat  at  the  end  of  a  line,  asked  him  the 
reason.  '  I  cannot  pass  a  very  old  acquaintance,'  replied  the  critic, 
'  without  that  civility.'" 

"  Friends  and  comrades  of  mine," 
He  exclaim'd,  "  as  a  sign, 
While  I  slept  has  come  o'er  me  a  dream  all  divine. 
It  has  warn'd  me  how  far  from  the  vessels  we  lie, 
And  that  some  one  should  go  for  fresh  force  to  apply." 
Dr.  Maginn's  Homeric  Ballads. — IS'o.  4.— The  Cloak. 

The  next  evening  found  the  whole  party  assembled  ia 
the  little  "  cabaret"  at  Fusina,  gruniblingly  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  gondolas  to  convey  them  to  Venice,  and 
the  gentlemen  unanimously  consigning  their  respective 
couriers  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  nether  powers, 
for  not  being  there  with  the  boats  before  them. 

The  ladies,  as  is  generally  the  case,  were  more  re- 
signed to  their  fate.  Mowbray  had  stuffed  his  travel- 
ling-cap into  a  broken  window,  to  guard  Julia  from 
cold  ;  while  Saville,  with  equal  solicitude,  had  converted 
his  cloak  into  tapestry  for  a  broken  door,  to  prevent  an 
invasion  of  the  winds,  lest  Fanny  should  share  the  fate 
of  Olithyas,  and  be  run  away  with  by  Boreas.  Made- 
moiselle d'Antoville  sat  in  a  window-seat,  recruiting 
her  spirits  with"le  raoiiidre  supcon  d'eau  de  vie."  Be- 
side her  sat  Lord  de  Clifford,  like  Jupiter  in  Olympus, 
surrounded  by  clouds — of  smoke,  which  he  was  puffing 
from  a  meerschaum,  emblazoned  with  the  loves  of 
Charlotte  and  Werter.  Little  Julia  had  formed  a  "  parti 
quarree"  with  Prince,  Zoe,  and  Titania.  Monsieur  de 
Rivoli  was  trying  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  glance  of  as 
much  of  his  own  face  as  was  recognisable  in  a  three- 
inch  triangular  piece  of  looking-glass,  which  gleamed 
Crom  a  brown  paper  frame,  that  formed  a  modest  "  bas-  ■ 
relief"  to  the  whitewashed  wall.  Herbert  Grimstone 
was  stretched  upon  some  carpet  bags  at  his  mother's 
feet  (deep  in  the  study  of  his  own  work  upon  Timbuc- 
too) ;  that  amiable  lady  having  taken  the  precaution  to 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  127 

convert  Mrs.  Frump's  Manchester  shawl  into  a  chair- 
cushion,  thereby  effectually  guarding  herself  from  the 
dangerous  results  of  any  sedentary  damp  or  cold  which 
she  might  otherwise  have  been  exposed  to.  Her  next 
precaution  was  to  tuck  up  her  habit,  and  so  reveal  a 
neat  white  dimity  petticoat,  and  a  very  judicious  pair 
of  cotton  stockings  and  black  leather  shoes,  which,  with 
the  feet  they  contained,  were  deposited  in  Frump's  lap, 
who  had  received  orders  to  take  up  her  "  lodging  on 
the  cold  ground,"  and  exemplify  the  ups  and  downs  of 
life  by  a  gentle  friction  of  her  ladyship's  ankles. 

At  a  respectful  but  convenient  distance,  stood  very 
perpendicularly,  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  that  en- 
during individual.  Croaker ;  his  mistress's  clogs  and  the 
parrot's  cage  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
pressed  to  his  manly  breast  Snap,  her  ladyship's  canine 
favourite,  around  whose  neck,  with  a  benevolence 
which,  as  she  herself  would  have  said,  "  did  credit  to 
her  head  and  hort,"  she  tied  a  scarlet  worsted  comfort- 
able, that  formed  an  enlivening  contrast  to  the  drab 
density  of  the  animal's  natural  complexion ;  notwith- 
standing which,  it  was  blinking;  and  shivering  in  all  the 
naluralities  of  a  demislumber,  its  nose  pushed  into  the 
protecting  bosom  of  Croaker,  who  generally  acted  as 
dry-nurse  when  Frump  was  otherwise  engaged. 

Mrs.  Seymour,  having  no  "  particulier,"  had  seated 
herself  on  a  table  just  above  Herbert  Grimstone,  and 
was  now,  in  her  turn,  beginning  to  complain  of  the  bore 
of  being  kept  waiting  so  long. 

"  I  wish  1  had  something  to  do !"  said  she,  "  for  it  is 
by  no  means  pleasant  to  be  kept  here  all  night,  conju- 
gating the  verb." 

"  Would  you  like  to  read  V  said  Herbert  Grimstone, 
kindly  offering  her  his  own  interesting  work  on  Tim- 
buctoo. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  she,  declining  the  proffered  vol- 
ume, "  for  reminding  me  that  absence  of  evil  is  good." 

Herbert  bit  his  lip,  and  accidentally,  on  purpose,  let 
the,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  heavy  book  fall  upon 
Mrs.  Seymour's  pretty  httle  foot,  that  was  swinging  like 
the  pendulum  of  a  clock  backward  and  forward. 

"  Well,  that  is  one  way  of  making  your  book  go 
down,  at  all  events,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  ran  to  rub  Mrs. 
Seymour's  foot. 


128  CHEVELEY  ;    OB, 

•'  To  say  nothing  of  making  one  feel  what  he  writes," 
laughed  Mrs.  Seymour,  in  the  midst  of  the  pain. 

"  Ah,  I  now  see  de  reason  le  pauvre  petit  has  look  so 
sorry  de  whole  route,"  whispered  Monsieur  de  Rivoli 
to  Mrs.  Seymour. 

"  Pourquoi  V  said  she. 

"  Why,  do  you  not  recollect,  une  foi  quand  Voltaire  ^ 
pris  I'air  triste,  and  his  friends  not  know  for  what  Ma- 
dame du  Chatelet  say  to  dem, '  Vons  ne  le  devineriez 
pas;  pourquoi  Monsieur  de  Voltaire  est  si  triste,  mais  je 
le  sais.  Depuis  trois  semaines,  on  ne  s'entrelient  dans 
Paris  que  de  I'execution  de  ce  fameux  voleur,  mort 
avec  tant  de  fermete ;  cela  ennui  M.  de  Voltaire,  a  qui 
Ton  ne  parle  plus  de  sa  tragedie ;  il  est  jaloux  du 
roue!'*  and  we  have  talk  of  nothing  but  de  'bal  cos- 
tuniee,'  and  never  once  mention  le  petit  Herbert's  mal- 
heureux  Timbuctoo !" 

Herbert,  hearing  his  own  name  accompanied  with  a 
suppressed  laugh,  bent  forward,  and  inquired,  in  his  most 
piano  voice,  if  Monsieur  de  Rivoli  had  been  speaking  of 
him.  To  do  the  French  justice,  they  never  like  to 
hurt  people's  feelings,  and,  therefore,  what  we  term  in- 
sincerity is  in  their  character  nothing  more  than  a  prac- 
tical illustration  of  their  own  clever  caricatures,  enti- 
tled, "  ce  qu'on  dit  et  ce  qu'on  pense ;"  so  he,  without 
the  least  hesitation,  replied, 

"  I  was  only  saying,  my  dear  feUow,  dat  you  were 
like  Voltaire." 

"How  so"!"  asked  Herbert,  with  a  mixed  expression 
of  pleasure  and  resentment ;  for  his  vanity  led  him  to 
believe  that  nothing  but  his  extraordinary  talents  could 
induce  any  one  to  class  him  with  Voltaire,  while  his 
ears  put  a  much  truer  but  less  flattering  construction 
upon  the  laugh  he  had  heard. 

"  Parceque,"  replied  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  pointing  to 
the  dowager  (whose  head  was  luckily  turned  the  other 
way,  as  she  was  in  the  act  of  rummaging  in  a  large 
black  bag  for  one  of  Mr.  Tynunons's  bill  of  costs,  which 

*   Before  the  first  French  revolution,  the  word  "  roue"  was  ap- 

EUed  to  all  notorious  characters,  such  as  thieves,  pickpockets,  vaga- 
onds,  and  murderers ;  and  not  confined  to  the  sense  in  which  it  is 
now  used,  as  applied  to  a  libertine,  though  the  word  was  used  in  that 
sense  also,  with  the  true  French  addition  and  distinction  of  the  word 
"aimable,"  "un  roue  aimable,"  meaning  a  libertine  par  excellence, 
in  contradistinction  to  a  simple  vagabond. 


I 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  129 

she  had  selected  as  an  agreeable  companion  in  a  post- 
chaise),  "  parceque  vous  etes  devant  I'age  qui  vous  fit 
naitre !" 

"  Devilish  good,  indeed !"  said  Herbert,  who,  in  his 
eagerness  to  grasp  at  the  shadow  of  a  compUment,  to- 
tally lost  the  substance  of  the  irony ;  "  but  you  are  so 
witty,  my  dear  fellow." 

"  Les  pr^tres  ne  sont.  point  ce  qu'un  vain  peuple  pense ; 
Notre  credulit6  fait  loute  leur  science," 

muttered  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  as  he  turned  away  to  hide 
the  smile  he  could  not  suppress,  and  which  was  com- 
municated hke  electric  fluid  to  the  mouths  of  every  one 
present,  except  those  of  Herbert,  his  mother,  and  broth- 
er. Next  to  his  own  matchless  work  on  "  Timbuctoo," 
Herbert  Grinistone's  favourite  topic  was  modern  French 
literature.  There  were  two  reasons  for  this  partiahty : 
first,  the  obscene  trash  and  inconceivable  horrors  that 
are  hourly  nightmared  in  French  garrets,  and  assume 
a  "  local  habitation  and  a  name"  from  the  Parisian  press, 
unaffactedly  charmed  him,  not  only  from  the  matter 
they  contained  being  perfectly  suited  to  his  calibre  of 
morality,  but  because  the  intellect  they  evinced  acted 
as  a  sort  of  soothing  sirup  to  the  painful  and  feverish 
dentition  of  his  vanity :  in  reading  them,  he  felt  that  he 
too  was  a  genius ;  that  he  too  could  write  !  Therefore, 
instead  of  flinging  down  the  book  with  the  pettish  and 
"nil  admirare"  exclamation  of  "this  fellow"  or  "this 
woman  is  deusedly  overrated,"  which  invariably  fol- 
lowed his  turning  over  the  leaves  of  any  of  the  standard 
writers  of  his  own  country,  he  always  felt  inchned, 
after  the  perusal  of  the  pink  and  yellow  covered,  gnome- 
inspired  trash,  so  lauded  by  "  la  jeune  fame,"  to  become, 
in  his  own  person,  an  additional  "  ignus  fatuus"  on  the 
charnel  altars  of  modern  French  literature ;  but  his 
chief  reason  arose  from  the  pleasure  and  superiority  he 
felt  in  talking  before  ladies  of  what  they  could  possibly 
know  nothing  about ;  for,  thank  Heaven,  except  through 
the  warning  pages  of  the  "  Quarterly  Review,"  the  very 
titles  of  these  books  are  unknown  to  our  country  women ; 
a  circumstance  which,  doubtless,  gave  rise  to  a  rather 
severe  philippic  against  their  ignorance,  in  Herbert 
Grimstone's  valuable  work  on  "Timbuctoo,"  where,  dis- 
cussing the  state  of  the  universe  at  large,  past,  present, 
and  future,  he  naturally  and  patrioticaSy  makes  a  sort 


130  CHBVELEY  ;    OR, 

of  semicolon  stop  at  England,  and  there  takes  occa- 
sion to  lament  that  the  uneducated  ignorance  of  Eng- 
lish ladies  (!)  prevented  their  having  any  conversational 
powers. 

Nationally  speaking,  none  can  pretend  to  assert  that 
they  have  either  the  wit  of  a  De  Sevigne  or  the  philos- 
ophy of  a  De  Stael,  to  give  that  depth  to  their  thoughts 
and  that  brilliancy  to  their  words  which  raises  conver- 
sation to  a  science ;  the  science,  "  par  excellence,"  in 
•which  our  Gallic  neighbours  so  pre-eminently  excel. 
Neither  are  English  women,  it  must  be  confessed,  so 
"au  fait,"  or,  rather,  so  "au  courant,"  to  every  billet  the 
march  of  intellect  daily  makes,  whether  on  countries  or 
on  individuals ;  but  other  reasons  may  be  assigned  for 
this,  more  correct  than  either  ignorance  or  incapacity. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  incontrovertible  axioms  in  political 
economy,  that  the  greater  the  demand  for  an  article  is, 
the  greater  the  means  of  its  supply  become. 

We  have  only  to  extend  this  principle  to  human  in- 
tellect (with  regard  to  which  it  holds  equally  good), 
and  the  enigma  of  English  women's  deficiencies  in  con- 
versational powers  is  solved  at  once.  On  the  tree  of 
knowledge,  as  cultivated  in  England,  women  are  taught 
to  look  upon  politics,  science,  statistics,  and  mathemat- 
ics as  so  many  grafts  of  forbidden  fruit ;  and  hence  the 
eternal,  not  very  gallant  query  of  the  other  sex,  of  "  What 
can  women  know  about  such  things  ]"  for  English  men 
seem  to  think,  that  the  nearest  approach  to  perfection 
in  a  wife  is  to  be  found  alone  in  those  women  who  are 
the  best  possible  imitations  of  automatons  ;  and  that  ig- 
norance is  not  only  the  most  incomplete  guard  to  vir- 
tue, but  that  it  is  also  the  best  safety-valve  for  vice.  In 
England,  there  is  an  inverse  ratio  of  false  pretences; 
for  no  young  gentleman,  fresh  from  college,  who,  after 
having  gained  the  greasy  suffrages  of  the  great  unwashed 
of  some  metropolitan  borough  through  his  dulcifluous 
anathemas  against  all  existing  laws,  ever  laboured  more 
indefatigably  to  appear  Cicero,  Lycurgus,  and  Aristides, 
all  in  one,  than  does  an  English  woman  of  common 
sense  to  appear  as  ignorant,  and,  consequently,  as  inof- 
fensive as  the  most  fastidious  censor  of  female  attributes 
could  wish. 

Englishmen  politely  banish  rational  conversation  in 
female  society,  as  being  beyond  the  comprehension  of 
their  pro-tempore  companions ;  and  as,  twenty  years 


THB    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  131 

ego,  the  generality  of  grown  persons  invariably  spoke 
to  children  as  if  they  thought  them  fools,  and  so  often 
made  them  that  which  they  had  supposed,  the  same  ef- 
fect from  the  same  cause  (despite  the  march  of  intel- 
lect)  may  sometimes  be  produced  upon  adults  now.  I 
have  often  remarked,  too,  that  if  a  woman  ventures  to 
evince  any  "  esprit  de  corps,"  and,  in  defence  of  the  de- 
preciated intellectof  her  sex,  triumphantly  brings  to  her 
defence  the  names  of  an  Edgeworth,  a  De  Stael,  a  More, 
a  Carter,  a  D'Acier,  a  Montague,  a  Bailey,  a  Martineau, 
a  Gore,  &c.,&c.,  some  supercilious  pendant  of  the  oth- 
er sex  instantly  tries  to  silence  her  by  a  contemptuous 
smile,  and  an  "  All  very  clever,  certainly  !  but  women 
want  that  profoundity  which  must  ever  prevent  their  at- 
taining any  eminence  in  science  !"  *  *  *  * 
*«**«*****« 

******  and,  for  the  present,  the 
name  of  Somerville  is  declared,  with  just  and  heartfelt 
pride,  not  only  as  having  equalled,  but  distanced  the  lords 
of  tiie  creation  in  their  own  course;  and,  oh!  triumph 
ot  irimnphs !  while  astonishing  and  benefiting  the  world 
by  discoveries  in  science  which  even  the  more  clear 
and  subtile  powers  of  masculine  intellect  had  hitherto 
failed  to  make,  this  gifted  and  extraordinary  lady  (if  re- 
port speaks  truly)  contrives  to  fulfil,  unerringly  and  un- 
ceasingly, every  duty  and  every  amenity  that  comes 
within  the  narrower  but  not  less  important  precincts  of 
a  woman's  sphere,  quite  as  well  and  as  meekly  as  though 
she  had  been  the  most  ignorant  and  illiterate  of  her  sex. 
But  at  the  mention  of  this  illustrious  name,  the  skeptical 
coxcomb,  being  changed  into  the  defeated  bully,  dexter- 
ously changes  the  conversation  :  the  reason  is  obvious 
— as  Berenice  was  the  only  woman  in  Greece  allowed 
to  witness  the  Olympic  games,  so  Mrs.  Somerville  is 
the  only  woman  in  Europe  who  has  dared  (and  who,  in 
daring,  has  succeeded)  to  penetrate  into  the  mysterious 
arena  of  science  hitherto  monopolized  by  the  other  sex  ; 
and,  consequently,  like  her  Athenian  prototype,  they  are 
determined  to  punish  her  by  alluding  to  the  singular  in- 
trusion as  little  as  possible;  but  I,  for  one,  sincerely 
hope  that  their  impotent  spite  will  not  deter  her  from 
pursuing  her  glorious  privilege. 

It  may  be  urged  that  Mrs.  Somen'ille  is  "  the  excep- 
tion that  proves  the  rule :"  in  reply  to  which,  I  would 
ask,  how  many  ignoramuses  go  to  a  Bacon,  a  Newton, 


132  CHETELEY  ;  OR, 

and  a  Locke  ^  though,  being  men,  they  have  had  eqnal 
advantages  of  edHcation  with  the  illustrious  trio  just 
named.  In  France,  on  the  contrary,  "les  femmes  se 
niele  de  tout ;"  and  I  firmly  believe  that  the  Salique  law 
only  exists  because  P'renchmen  prefer  being  governed 
by  a  republic  of  women,  instead  of  delegating  sovereign 
power  to  one.  From  Mohere's  old  woman  up  to  a  Ro- 
land or  a  De  Stael,  they  are  made  umpires  in  literature, 
politics,  and  the  fine  arts ;  and  if  France  has  produced 
more  heroic  women  than  England,  it  is  not  because  they 
have  naturally  nobler  natures  than  English  women,  but 
because  patriotism  is  not  with  them,  as  with  us,  exclu- 
sively inculcated  as  a  masculine  virtue,  or  set  apart  as 
one  of  man's  many  unshared  privileges. 

Women  in  France  are  allowed  to  feel  as  great  an  in- 
terest, because  they  have  as  great  a  stake,  in  their  na- 
tive country,  as  the  sons  of  the  soil.  Nothing  can  more 
completely  exemplify  the  genius  of  the  two  nations,  as 
regards  the  estimation  in  which  women  are  held,  as  the 
zoological  distinction  of  "  females,"  under  which  the 
greatest  ladies  in  the  land  are  classed  with  us :  while, 
in  France,  the  very  fishwomen  are  "les  dames  de  la 
hale."  A  French  scavenger  is  as  polite  and  as  much 
"  au  petit  soin"  to  an  apple-woman,  as  a  French  duke 
would  be  to  a  duchess ;  for  the  apple-woman  is  still  a 
"  dame"  for  him  :  whereas,  see  the  same  apple-woman 
in  England,  and  the  odds  are,  the  first  man  she  meets 
will  purposely  jostle  against  her,  and  when  he  has  suc- 
ceeded in  rolling  her  and  her  fruit  into  the  kennel,  will 
indulge  in  a  horselaugh  at  her  misfortunes. 

The  lower  class  of  English  women  wait  upon  their 
lords  and  masters,  and  perform  for  them  offices  of  man- 
ual labour  which  would  convince  a  South  Sea  savage 
how  remiss  his  squaw  was  in  the  wifely  virtues  of  in- 
dustry and  endurance.  It  is  true  that  the  upper  class 
of  wives  are,  of  necessity,  exempt  from  this  species  of 
humiliation ;  but  it  is  also  true,  that  their  degradation 
and  subjection  only  assumes  a  diflferent  form  and  man- 
ner :  inferiority  is  still  the  unmistakeable  badge  of  the 
order.  With  us,  the  luxurious  expenditure  of  a  man  is 
"  de  rigueure,"  while  the  mere  necessaries  of  a  woman 
are  furnished  by  accidental  and  fortunate  superfluities. 
The  extravagance  of  fathers  and  sons  is  always  to  be 
atoned  for  by  the  economy,  privations,  and  self-denials 
of  mothers  and  daughters. 


THE    MAN   OP   HONOUR.  133 

English  women  have  but  one  privilege  :  they  may  de- 
vote their  lives  to  the  education,  welfare,  and  care  of 
their  children,  Avithout  ever  being  able  to  obtain  one 
single  conventional  or  legal  right  over  them,  while  the 
father,  be  his  vices  what  they  may,  or  his  neglect  ever 
so  unnatural,  still  possesses,  by  our  wise  and  moral 
laws,  the  whole  and  sole  control  over  the  unfortunate 
little  beings  who  may  be  destined  to  feel  all  the  disad- 
vantages of  his  power,  without  reaping  any  of  the  ben- 
efits of  his  protection. 

They  manage  these  things,  if  not  better,  at  least  more 
gallantly  in  France  :  even  the  "  menage  au  quatrieme," 
conducted  on  three  hundred  a  year,  still  finds  madame 
enveloped  in  a  Cashmere,  and  while  a  point  lace  veil 
adorns  her  bonnet,  "lest  the  winds  of  heaven  should 
visit  her  face  too  roughly."  Not  only  at  Long  Champ, 
but  for  the  ordinary  "  demarches"  to  St.  Cloud,  Fontain- 
bleau,  &c.,  a  remise  is  always  at  her  command,  while 
her  considerate  spouse  is  content,  as  far  as  his  own 
costume  goes,  to  make  "  boue  de  Paris"  the  prevailing 
colour.  That  marital  arrangements  should  ever  reach 
this  perfectionized  state  in  England,  is  a  Utopian  vision, 
far  beyond  the  dreams  of  hope  ;  even  a  "juste  milieu," 
it  is  to  be  feared,  with  us  can  never  exist,  for  in  a  coun- 
try where  there  is  such  a  superfluity  of  clubs,  there 
must,  of  necessity,  be  a  deficit  of  Cashmeres  ! 

But  to  return :  Herbert  Grimstone  had  had  the  satis- 
faction of  descanting  upon  a  series  of  works  unknown 
to  every  lady  present ;  for  which  reason  Monsieur  de 
Rivoli  (the  person  whom  he  had  especially  addressed 
himself  to),  with  the  good-breeding  of  his  country,  had 
made  several  ineffectual  efforts  to  turn  the  conversation, 
and  had  even  been  sufficiently  "  rococo"  to  assert  bold- 
ly that  he  did  not  think  Victor  Hugo  so  great  a  genius 
as  Racine,  or  that  there  was  any  danger  of  George 
Sand's  un-pedestalling  the  Cotins,  Sevignes,  Daciers, 
and  gespinasses  of  the  olden  time.  So,  finding  the 
pulse  of  the  audience  favourable  to  Monsieur  de  Rivo- 
li's  side,  he  kindly  resolved  to  meet  them  on  their  own 
narrow  ground,  poor  things !  and  talk  to  them  of  such 
minor  stars  as  Chateaubriand  and  Madame  de  Stael ! 
Therefore,  politely  addressing  his  sister-in-law  across 
the  room,  he  said,  with  a  pitiful  smile, 

"  I  think,  my  dear  Julia,  you  like  nothing  but  religious 
books,  which  1  assure  you  the  French  are  by  no  means 

Vol.  I.— M 


134  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

incapable  of  writing :  for  instance,  what  can  be  more 
high-wrought,  indeed  almost  canting,  than  "  Corinne," 

"Mathilde,"  and  "  AtalaV 

Fanny  and  Mrs.  Seymour  laughed  outright  at  Mr. 
Herbert  Grimstone's  ideas  of  religious  books,  and  Julia 
very  nearly  did  the  same  as  she  replied,  "  I  cannot 
agree  with  you  in  thinking  any  of  those  religious  books  ; 
and  the  religious  aphorisms  and  exclamations — for  I 
know  not  what  else  to  call  them — which  are  scattered 
through  them,  are  rather  offensive  than  otherwise ; 
what  I  mean  is,  the  sentiments  of  religion  are  brought 
into  such  profane  contact  with  some  of  the  worst  ac- 
tions of  human  passion,  that,  in  reading  them,  one  ex- 
periences the  same  revolting  sensation  that  one  might 
be  supposed  to  feel  if  one  saw  '  Romeo  and  Juliet'  act- 
ed at  one  end  of  a  cathedral,  while  the  bishop  was 
preaching  on  the  Atonement  at  the  other.  Indeed,  the 
only  time  Madame  de  Stael's  genius  ceases  to  be  om- 
nipresent, and,  as  far  as  the  heart  omniscient  is,  goes, 
when  she  leaves  the  Parthenon  for  the  simple  but  mys- 
terious altars  of  Christianity ;  and  then  I  always  think 
with  that  most  charming  woman,  'Mrs.  Blackwood,' 
that 

"  '  'Tis  a  pity  when  charming  women 

Talk  of  tilings  wliich  they  don't  understand.' 

With  Chateaubriand  it  is  otherwise ;  his  is  a  more  soul- 
thought  theology ;  still  I  cannot  say  I  like  those  mo- 
saics of  love  and  religion,  like  the  '  Atala,'  where  love 
is  the  '  pietro  dura,'  and  religion  the  cement  which  first 
serves  to  unite,  and  eventually  to  separate  them." 

Julia  was  proceeding,  when  a  frown  from  her  husband, 
expressive  of  astonishment  at  her  daring  so  boldly  to 
assert  her  opinions,  and  disapprobation  at  her  presu- 
ming to  differ  from  his  brother,  effectually  stopped  her. 

"  Oh !  I  understand,"  said  Herbert,  with  a  smile  more 
of  contempt  and  less  of  compassion  than  his  former 
one:  "you  like  the  whole  thing  to  be  about  religion; 
some  people  do.  Now  here  is  a  pamphlet,  which  has 
made  a  great  noise  in  France,"  said  he,  drawing  the 
Abbe  de  Lamennais'  "  Paroles  d'un  Croyant"  out  of  his 
pocket,  "  and  is,  I  should  think,  just  the  sort  of  thing 
you  would  like." 

"  I  have  read  it,  and  do  not  like  it  at  all,"  said  Julia, 
coldly. 


\ 


THE   MAN   OF  HONOUR.  135 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  V  inquired  the  Dowager  Lady 
de  Clifford. 

"  Why,  my  dear  mamma,"  said  Herbert,  knitting  his 
brows  thoughtfully,  and  assuming  a  solemn  tone  of 
voice,  "  it  is  a  very  admirable  work  on  religion,  by  a 
very  distinguished  French  abbe.  It  is  called  '  The 
W'ords  of  a  Believer.'  I've  had  it  in  my  pocket  ever 
since  the  day  I  bought  it." 

"  I'm  sure,  my  dear,  it  does  great  credit  to  your  head 
and  hort  to  carry  such  good  books  about  you  ;  and  ev- 
ery one  must  admire  you  for  it  vaustly." 

"  My  dear  mamma,"  said  this  dutiful  son,  kissing  his 
exemplary  parent's  hand,  in  the  performance  of  which 
filial  evolution  he  considerably  endangered  Frumps's 
frictionary  equilibrium,  and  nearlj'  reduced  her  to  a 
horizontal  position  ;  "  my  dear  mamma,  if  you  do,  that 
is  quite  sufficient  for  we." 

"  Really,"  said  Mrs.  Seymour  to  Monsieur  de  Rivoli, 
"that  httie  animal  is  quite  too  disgusting,  and  I  have  a 
great  mind  to  tell  him  so." 

"  Bah !  bah !  lesser  lui  done  son  costume  de  famille 
«,m  lui  sien,  c'est  sous  cctte  livree  qu'il  dois,  parler,  sans 
rien  dire,  deraisonner  agn'-ablement  sur  tout,  et  etaler 
les  graces  de  sa  profonde  ignorance !" 

"  1  believe  you  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Seymour.  "  But 
what  on  earth  is  thati"  continued  she,  looking  towards 
the  window,  to  which  the  whole  party  now  crowded, 
to  behold  a  sight  somewhat  out  of  the  common. 

Half  a  dozen  gondolas  were  rapidly  approaching  to 
the  landing-place,  the  foremost  of  which  had  some  un- 
usual decorations,  consisting  of  a  rocking-horse  strap- 
ped outside  on  the  top  of  it ;  an  umbrella,  in  proud  ro- 
tundity, was  spread  before  the  entrance  ;  a  red  carpet- 
bag obtruded  from  one  window,  while  over  the  other 
hung  a  ham  and  two  dried  tongues,  divided  by  a  tin 
teakettle  and  a  pair  of  beefsteak  tongs.  This  culinary- 
looking  flotilla  at  length  anchored  ;  and  from  it  issued 
two  figures,  the  first  in  size  and  colour  not  unlike  a 
hippopotamus,  having  on  a  dark,  shapeless.  India-rub- 
ber coat,  a  black  boa  coiled  several  times  round  its 
throat,  an  India-rubber  travelling-cap,  shaped  like  a 
melon  with  a  slice  cut  out  of  it,  and  ears  comfortably 
tied  under  the  chin.  The  blue  goggles  that  gleamed 
from  the  upper  part  of  the  wearer's  face  made  no  bad 
representation  of  the  antediluvian  aiiimal's  eyes. 


136  cheveley;  or, 

Under  the  arm  of  "  the  stout  gentleman,"  for  such  it 
turned  out  to  be,  was  a  small  portfolio,  and  in  his  hand 
was  a  blue  card-board  hatbox,  ornamented  with  pink 
bordering. 

No  sooner  had  he  landed,  than,  lo !  another  mass  of 
human  flesh  emerged  from  the  gondola ;  but,  though  of 
equal  magnitude,  its  exterior  was  very  different.  A 
blanket-coat,  with  dark  horn  buttons  the  size  of  half- 
crowns,  enveloped  "  the  last  man,"  which,  when  "  turn- 
ed aside"  by  the  passing  gale,  displayed  a  pair  of  Rus- 
sia ducks,  evidently  of  the  most  republican  principles, 
as  they  scorned  the  legitimate  restraint  of  straps,  and, 
consequently,  had  departed  far  from  the  allegiance  due 
to  a  pair  of  Wellington  boots,  which  must  have  been 
made  out  of  some  singularly  unfortunate  dog's,  as  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  they  had  never  had  their  Day  (and 
Martin !)  A  red  belcher  graced  the  throat  of  this  indi- 
vidual ;  and  a  black,  broadish-brimmed  hat  (that  looked 
very  much  like  a  person  that  had  been  up  all  night,  in- 
asmuch as  that  it  was  greatly  in  want  of  a  nap)  crown- 
ed this  portly  personage.  His  ample  cheeks  flowed,  as 
it  were,  over  the  red  belcher,  in  perfect  incognito,  under 
favour  of  the  same  colours :  in  his  right  hand  he  held  a 
papier  machee  snuffbox,  with  a  fox-hunt  on  it ;  and  in 
his  left  the  last  Galignani. 

"  Why,  by  all  that's  ubiquitous,  there's  Nonplus  !" 
cried  Saville.  He  had  scarcely  uttered  this  assertion, 
when  the  latch  was  raised  and  the  major  entered,  tow- 
ing the  other  "  stout  gentleman"  after  him. 

"  Your  most  obedient,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the 
former,  removing  the  aforesaid  sleepless  Golgotha  from 
his  head.  "  Thought  I'd  wing  you  to  a  minute  I  Those 
couriers  of  yours  wanted  to  be  here  two  hours  ago,  and 
I  would  not  let  them ;  no  use  paying  the  gondolas  all 
that  while  ;  old  soldier — no  humbugging  me  !" 

"  For  which  reason,"  said  Saville, "  you  thought  fit  to 
hum  us :  for  we  have  been  here  these  last  two  hours, 
collecting  appetites  that  I'm  very  sure  no  alluro  ia 
Venice  can  satisfy." 

"  Ah,  Saville,  my  boy,  how  do  V  said  the  major,  for 
the  first  time  espying  him,  and  extending  two  of  his 
stumpy,  freckled,  sausage-looking  fingers  ;  "  but  I  want," 
continued  he,  totally  disregarding  the  veracity  of  Sa- 
ville's  reproaches,  "  I  want  to  accommodate  all  my 
friends,  if  I  can.    Now  there's  this  good  gentleman, 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  137 

Monsieur  Barbouiller — Monsieur  Barbouiller,  my  Lord 
and  my  Lady  de  Clifford:  'le  feu,'  Lady  de  Clifford" 
(pointing  to  the  dowager) ;  "  '  sa  petit  fils'  "  (aiming  an- 
other finger  at  Herbert) ;  "  Madame  Seymour,  '  toute  le 
monde,' "  concluded  the  major,  making  a  sort  of  circu- 
lar bob  of  the  head.  "Tout  le  monde.  Monsieur  Bar- 
bouiller, homme  d'affaires — de  letlres,  I  mean — no  of- 
fence, monsieur,  for  the  '  homme  d'affaires'  has  letters 
of  credit,  you  know,  so  I'm  not  sure  that  he  hasn't  the 
best  of  it;  for  the  £.  s.  d.  are  worth  all  the  other  let- 
ters in  the  alphabet,  to  my  mind.  "Well,  what  was  I 
going  to  say]  All  these  introductions  have  put  it  out 
of  my  head.  Oh — ah — this  good  gentleman  here.  Mon- 
sieur Barbouiller,  is  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  to  Padua ; 
so,  having  fished  out  from  your  couriers  that  Seymour 
was  going  there,  1  seized  him,  just  as  he  was  sitting 
down  to  his  solitary  cutlet,  after  a  twenty-four  hours' 
fast  (for  he  has  been  travelling  night  and  day),  feeling 
assured  Seymour  would  give  him  a  place  in  his  carriage, 
to  save  time,  and  also  be  good  enough  to  convey  a  few 
English  delicacies  to  my  friend  Tompkins,  and  a  few 
toys  to  the  children,  as  he  whites  me  word  that  Padua 
produces  nothing  but  learned  men,  skeletons,  and  surgi- 
cal instruments,  none  of  which  can  be  conveniently 
turned  into  food,  you  know.  But  where  is  Seymour 
all  this  while  1" 

"  At  Padua,"  replied  Mrs.  Seymour,  with  a  gravity 
that  put  an  end  to  every  one  else's,  "  where  he  has  been 
since  ten  o'clock  this  morning." 

The  major  gave  one  long  shrill  whistle,  and  then  de- 
posited his  tongue  in  the  corner  of  his  right  cheek, 
where  it  remained  silent  for  two  minutes.  The  ill-fated 
Monsieur  Barbouiller  shrugged  his  shoulders,  raised  his 
eyebrows  considerably  above  the  rampart  of  his  purple 
goggles,  and  uttered  in  a  gentle  tone,  between  a  sigh 
and  a  tear,  "  Mon  pauvre  poulet  a  la  Tartar !  pourquoi 
vous  ai-je  quitter'?" 

Poor  Monsieur  Barbouiller,  maugre  his  lilach  goggles, 
had,  like  all  Frenchmen,  that  innate  tact  which  prevent- 
ed him  ever  being  "  de  trop"  when  people  had  paired 
off;  so,  casting  a  disconsolate  glance  round  the  room, 
he  perceived  that  the  Dowager  Lady  de  Clifford  was 
alone, unprovided  with  an  escort;  and, with  the  look  of 
a  martyr  and  the  step  of  a  hero,  gallantly  made  three 
strides  forward,  and  led  on  the  forlorn  hope  of  his  po- 
M2 


138  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

liteness  by  throwing  himself  into  the  breach  between 
her  and  Croaker,  and  offering  her  his  arm. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  her  ladyship  (as  a  gentle- 
man of  my  acquaintance  once  wittily  observed  of  a 
similarly  gifted  individual)  had  an  amazing  talent  for 
resisting  languages  ;  consequently  French,  Italian,  and 
German,  in  their  relative  positions  to  her  conversation- 
al powers,  stood  on  the  same  side  as  Hebrew,  Greek, 
and  Algebra ;  therefore,  having  taken  possession  of  the 
proffered  hmb,  and,  in  her  usual  business-like  manner, 
given  a  receipt  for  the  same  in  the  dulcet  sounds  of 
"  mercy,  monseer  !"  she  escaped  from  further  colloquy 
with  the  unfortunate  reviewer  by  discharging  a  volley 
of  "  pretty  dears  !"  at  her  pug  and  parrot.  But  Her- 
bert Grimstone,  who  always  sniffed  out  a  reviewer 
with  bloodhound  keenness,  joined  him  on  the  other 
side  ;  and  placing  his  left  hand  gracefully  in  his  bosom 
(a  favourite  attitude  of  his),  and  brandishing  Timbuctoo 
in  his  right,  he  entered  graciously,  or,  rather,  obsequi- 
ously, into  conversation  with  the  doomed  critic ;  and, 
notwithstanding  Lord  Chesterfield's  admonition,  "  Nev- 
er to  talk  to  a  man  of  his  calling,"  he  started  from  the 
post,  plunging  at  once  into  literature  in  general,  and  pe- 
riodical literature  in  particular ;  the  lauding  Monsieur 
Barbouiller's  review,  not  only  as  the  best  in  France,  but 
in  Europe  ;  though,  at  the  moment,  he  was  unaware 
even  of  the  name  of  the  review  he  so  much  admired; 
and  least  of  all  was  he  aware  that  it  was  the  infernal 
machine,  and  Monsieur  Barbouiller  the  remorseless 
Fieski,  who  had  so  completely  bechamelled  his  invalu- 
able work  upon  Timbuctoo,  especially  that  part  of  it 
abounding  in  misstatements  about  France. 

However,  upon  making  the  discovery  at  a  subsequent 
period,  he  consoled  himself  with  this  pithy  reflection, 
"  Barbouiller  will  think  me  a  devilish  high-minded,  mag- 
nanimous fellow,  and  it  must  conciliate  him  for  the  fu- 
ture !"  Alas  !  for  the  unsophisticated  innocence  of  Mr. 
Herbert  Grimstone,  who  was  not  lapidary  enough  to 
know,  that  however  good  dinners  may  and  do  have  the 
effect,  soft  words  never  yet  smoothed  down  the  stony 
ruggedness  of  reviewers'  hearts. 

Thus  luxuriating  in  this  delightful  conversation,  or, 
rather,  oration  (for  the  poor  Frenchman  had  not  uttered 
a  syllable),  the  trio  proceeded  to  the  place  of  embarca- 
tion;  Monsieur  Barbouiller,  for  the  first  time  roused 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  139 

into  speech  by  one  of  those  anti-ambrosial  odours  so 
rife  along  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  exclaimed,  just  as 
Herbert  Grimstonc  was  quoting  his  own  pet  passage 
upon  statistics  from  Timbuctoo,  "  Oh,  c'est  epouventa- 
ble!"  Monsieur  de  Rivob,  Avho  was  close  behind,  and 
had  witnessed  the  whole  scene,  burst  into  an  uncon- 
trollable fit  of  laughter,  and,  pushing  Monsieur  Bar- 
bouiller's  shoulder,  cried,  "A-propos,  mon  cher!" 
while  Herbert,  as  usual,  on  the  wrong  scent  where  the 
joke  was  against  liimself,  chimed  in  Avith  "  'Pon  my 
soul,  it's  dreadful !"  while  his  amiable  parent  presented 
the  distressed  critic  with  some  eau  de  Cologne,  which 
she  persisted  in  calling  Hungri/  water. 

"  Non,  a  tousand  tank,  madame,"  said  that  unfortu- 
nate gentleman,  "  but  I  quite  hungcry  enough ;  I  should 
link  all  de  water  here  was  hungery,  for  dere  no  fish  in 
dis  mandit  mer;  I  can  get  none  all  de  time  I  at  Venice." 
Here  his  deserted  poulet  k  la  Tartar  flitting  across  his 
imagination,  Monsieur  Barbouiller  closed  his  eyes  and 
relapsed  into  silence  with  a  sigh.  Having  reached  the 
gondolas,  a  debate  arose  as  to  how  they  were  to  be 
freighted  ;  upon  which  Major  Nonplus,  with  his  usual 
active  zeal  for  making  people  comfortable,  suggested 
that,  as  Mumsell  de  Dontonville,  as  he  called  her,  was 
French,  she  would  find  it  much  pleasanter  to  go  with 
Monsieur  Barbouiller  than  any  one  else  ;  but  Lord  de 
Clifford,  flinging  at  him  a  look  all  dignity  and  daggers, 
handed  her  into  the  nearest  boat  and  seated  himself  be- 
side her;  whereupon  the  major,  as  was  his  wont  upon 
discovering  one  of  his  own  blunders,  pushed  up  his  eye- 
brows, pursed  up  his  mouth  in  order  to  execute  a  whis- 
tle, and  giving  Monsieur  de  Rivoli  a  dig  with  his  fore- 
finger in  that  gentleman's  left  ribs,  said  in  a  stage  whis- 
per, "  Whew  !  I  suppose  he  thinks  her  virtue  w  ould  not 
be  safe  with  such  a  fascinating  fellow  as  my  friend 
Blue  Goggles  ;  ha !  ha !  ha !" 

"  Non — dat  cannot  be,"  said  Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  as 
he  handed  Mrs.  Seymour  into  the  last  gondola,  the  rest 
of  the  party  having  rowed  off  "  car  quar  amissa  salva." 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  go  it,  my  hearty,"  said  the  major, 
with  a  commendatory  slap  on  the  back ;  "  really,  for  a 
Frenchman,  you  arc  a  monstrous  clever  fellow !" 

No  sooner  was  the  little  flotilla  under  weigh  than 
Herbert  Grimstone  returned  to  the  charge,  having  mis- 
quoted some  of  the  songs  of  Tasso,  to  "  suit  the  word 


140  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

to  the  action."  He  reopened  Timbuctoo  at  a  parallel 
between  Dante  and  Petrarch,  taking  Monsieur  Bar- 
bouiller's  closed  eyes  and  folded  arms  for  unequivocal 
symptoms  of  profound  attention,  which  were  in  reality 
but  the  effects  caused  by  the  disagreeable  motion  of  the 
gondola,  in  juxtaposition  with  twenty-four  hours'  ab- 
stinence. "  However,"  continued  Herbert,  reading  as 
follows,  * "  The  gratification  of  knowing  and  asserting  the 
truth,  and  of  being  able  to  make  it  resound  even  from 
their  graves,  is  so  keen  as  to  outbalance  all  the  vexa- 
tions to  which  the  life  of  men  of  genius  is  generally 
doomed,  not  so  much  by  the  coldness  and  envy  of  man- 
kind, as  by  the  burning  passions  of  their  own  hearts. 
This  sentiment  Avas  a  more  abundant  source  of  com- 
fort to  Dante  than  to  Petrarch,*  of  which  we  have 
proof  in  the  following  lines  : 

"  *  Mentre  ch'  i'  era  a  Virgilio  Congiunto, 
Super  lo  monte,  che  I'anime  cura, 
E  discendendo  nel  mondo  defunto, 
Dette  mi  fur  di  mia  vita  futura 
Parole  gravi  ;  arvegnach  'io  mi  senta 
Ben  tetragono  a  i  colpi  di  ventura. 
Ben  Veggio,  padre  mio,  .si  come  sprona 
So  tempo  verso  me,  per  colpo  darmi 
Tal,  ch'^  piu  grave  a  chi  piQ  s'abbandona  ; 
Perch6  de  Providenza  h  buon  ch'  io  m'armL 

O  Sacrosante  Vergini  se  fami, 
Freddi,  o  Vigilie,  mai  per  voi  soffersi, 

Cagion  mi  sprona  ch'  io  merc^  ne  chiami, 
Oh  convien  ch'  EUcona  per  me  versi, 

Ed  Urania  m'aguti  col  suo  coro 
Forti  cose  a  pensar  mettere  in  versi. 

E  s'io  al  hero  son  timedo  amico 
Tempo  di  perder  vita  tra  coloro 
Che  questo  tempo  chiameranno  Antico.'  " 

Here  Herbert  paused  for  applause,  and  here  Mon- 
sieur Barbouiller  doffed  his  blue  goggles,  opened  one 
eye  very  widely,  and  darted  a  glance  like  an  optical 
Columbus  into  Herbert's  "  lac  lustre"  orbs ;  but,  dis- 
covering nothing  there,  he  calmly  observed,  with  a 
slight  inclination  of  the  head,  "  Dose  ver  fine  line  of 
Dante,  and  dat  most  just  critique  of  Ugo  Foscolo  dat 
go  before  dem." 

"  D — n  the  fellow  !  what  a  memory  he  has,"  thought 
Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone,  as  he  closed  his  invaluable 
work  on  Timbuctoo,  and  followed  Monsieur  Barbouil- 

»  A  parallel  between  Dante  and  Petrarch,  by  Ugo  Foscolo. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  141 

ler's  example  of  shutting  his  eyes  and  folding  his  arms, 
just  adding,  by  way  of  anodyne,  this  protocol  to  his 
thoughts — "  I  wonder  what  the  fellow's  pohtics  are,  for 
I  should  like  to  show  him  my  pamphlet  on  the  present 
administration." 

"Heavens!  what  will  not  those  falsehood-mongers, 
the  poets,  have  to  answer  for,"  said  Saville,  looking 
out  upon  the  sea,  as  they  turned  into  the  canal  on 
which  the  St.  Leone  Bianco  was  situated,  "  for  all  the 
lies  they  have  told  about  sti'eams 

"  '  Rushing  in  bright  tumults  to  the  Adrian  Sea. 

For  a  dirtier,  dingier,  more  ill-conditioned-looking  set 
of  waters  I  never  beheld  !" 

"  Ma  fois  ouis,"  cried  Monsieur  de  Rivoli ;  "  and 
what  a  dirty  bride  '  de  pour  Doge  of  Venice  dy'  must 
have  had!" 

"  And  half  the  time  raging  and  storming  like  a  Xan- 
tippe,"  laughed  Fanny. 

"  Yes,  but  then  her  Marito  could  wash  his  hands  of 
her  whenever  he  pleased,"  rejoined  Saville. 

"  Toujours  a  nos  Calamhouses,"  pished  Monsieur  de 
Rivoli,  as  the  gondola  stopped  at  the  steps  of  the 
White  Silver  Lion,  where  stood  mine  host  bowing 
most  obsequiously,  but  looking  like  anything  but  a  sea- 
god — in  a  pair  of  bran  new  nankeens,  a  light  brown 
coat  of  equal  juvenility,  a  sky-blue  waistcoat,  and  a 
snow-white  shirt,  in  the  centre  of  which  blazed  a  car- 
nelion  brooch,  the  size  and  colour  of  a  pomegranate 
blossom.  Had  he  had  as  many  eyes,  ears,  and  tongues 
as  Briareus  had  hands,  he  could  scarcely  have  looked 
at,  listened  to,  and  answered  all  the  people  who  now 
assailed  him  with  interrogations  touching  their  own  in- 
dividual comfort  and  accomodation. 

Lord  de  Clifford  was  anxious  to  know,  with  that 
parental  solicitude  which  formed  such  a  distinguishing 
trait  in  his  character,  whether  he  could  have  a  dressing- 
room  near,  or,  rather,  next  to  his  daughter's  schoolroom. 
His  amiable  and  exemplary  parent  was  equally  anx- 
ious to  ascertain  whether  she  could  have  one  at  some 
distance  from  her  bedroom.  "  For,"  said  she,  always 
bent  upon  showing  how  attentive  she  was  to  the  well- 
being  of  others — waving  her  hands  as  she  spoke,  with 
that  grace  peculiar  to  herself  and  the  paddles  of  a 
wherry — "for  mong  fom  de  chomber  endorni  dang 


142  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

mong  chomber  et.  My  dear,"  turning  to  her  afTection- 
ate  son  Herbert,  "  you  who  speak  French  and  Italian  so 
vaustly  well,  do  be  so  good  as  to  tell  the  man  that 
Frump  sleeps  in  my  room,  and  I'm  afraid  the  scream- 
ing of  the  parrot  might  disturb  her." 

The  dutiful  son  obeyed,  and  then  proceeded  to  inquire 
if  he  could  have  a  quiet  apartment  to  write  in,  with  the 
luxury  of  a  lock  and  key,  as  he  did  not  like  leaving  pa- 
pers of  importance  about.  And  here  he  disencumbered 
his  servant  of  a  despatch-box  he  had  hitherto  taken 
charge  of. 

Monsieur  de  Rivoli,  taking  advantage  of  the  pause 
Avhich  this  occasioned,  leaned  forward  and  gave  in  a 
schedule  of  his  wants,  which  amounted  to  the  laudable 
desire  of  inhabiting  a  room  which  did  not  look  upon  the 
sea ;  "  the  air  of  which,"  as  he  justly  observed,  "  not 
only  made  one  seem,  but,  in  reality,  become  '  jaunatre.' " 
At  the  same  time  he  stipulated  not  to  have  one  of  those 
dark,  narrow  dens  which  generally  compose  the  rear  of 
most  Venetian  houses ;  "  for,"  as  he  with  equal  truth 
remarked,  "  that  in  such  places  it  was  impossible  to 
make  a  toilet  fit  to  be  seen.     '  Figaro  ci  Figaro  la !' " 

Round  went  the  unfortunate  owner  of  the  Silver 
Lion's  Head,  as  though  it  had  been  upon  a  pivot,  and 
"  Si  Signore,"  "  Madama  bene,"  gushed  from  his  lips 
like  water  from  a  torrent.  Next  chimed  in  a  cho- 
rus of  ladies'-maids,  entreating  the  courier  to  ask  Mr. 
What-d'ye-call-'em  "  if  he  was  sure  there  were  plenty 
of  wardrobes  and  drawers,  as  their  ladies'  things  had 
been  so  put  about,  to  be  sure,  and  hevery  hindividual 
thing  treated  so  permiscus  as  to  be  nearly  spoilt." 

At  length,  all  these  important  preliminaries  arranged, 
poor  Monsieur  Barbouiller  ventured  to  inquire,  in  a 
voice  almost  inarticulate  from  hunger  and  emotion,  "  if, 
'  par  hazard,'  his  '  poulet  a  la  Tartar'  happened  to  be 
still  in  existence."  The  "  no"  which  gave  the  death- 
blow to  his  hopes  seemed  to  promise  immortality  to  his 
appetite ;  for  at  that  moment  he  felt  as  if  all  the  chick- 
ens that  ever  had  or  ever  would  exist  would  not  be  suf- 
ficient to  assuage  the  compound  addition  of  his  hunger. 
Herbert  Grimstone,  pitying  in  some  sort  his  distress, 
and  thinking  that  after  dinner  would  be  an  admirable 
time  to  sound  his  political  opinions  and  show  him  his 
pamphlet  "  On  the  Present  Administration,"  politely 
invited  him  to  join  his  brother's  dinner-party,  adding 


THE   MAN    OF   HONOUR.  143 

the  consolatory  assurance, "  that  the  dinner  having  beea 
ordered  since  the  morning,  it  was  then  ready."  In 
gratefully  availing  himself  of  so  unexpected  a  blessing, 
poor  Monsieur  Barbouiller  removed  his  India-rubber 
cap  from  his  head,  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and, 
after  bowing  almost  to  the  ground  several  times,  looked 
at  Herbert  Grimstone  with  a  smile  of  benignant  com- 
placency, as  if  then,  for  the  first  time  since  their  ac- 
quaintance, he  appeared  not  only  to  feel,  but  to  admire 
the  beauty,  grace,  and  appositeness  of  the  expressions 
that  had  just  fallen  from  that  highly-gifted  young  gentle- 
man's mouth. 

Lord  de  Clifford  included  Major  Nonplus  in  the  invi- 
tation, by  politely  saying,  "  D — n  it,  Nonplus,  you  may 
dine  with  us  too  !"  But  that  distinguished  officer  and 
polished  gentleman  declined,  upon  the  plea  of  having 
an  engagement  to  meet  a  person  on  business  half  an 
hour  from  thence,  at  the  "  Caffe  della  fiore,"  on  tho 
piazza. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  was  at  the 
Silver  Lion,  at  Venice,  an  Knglish  w-aiter,  or,  at  least,  a 
waiter  who  spoke  English  (vide  the  difference  between 
a  horse-chestnut  and  a  chestnut  horse),  and,  like  the  old 
woman  who  lived  under  the  hill, 

"  If  he's  not  gone,  he's  hving  there  still !" 

To  him  Major  Nonplus  now  turned,  and,  in  a  sonorous 
and  dignified  voice,  addressed  to  him  the  following 
queries : 

"  I  say,  waiter." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  got  in  the  house  V 

"  Almost  everything,  sir,  that  you  please  to  have." 

"  Let  me  see — have  you  any  woodcocks  V 

"  Not  in  season  now,  sir." 

"  Oh !  ah ! — true,  I  forgot !    A  larded  capon !" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Any  mullet  V 

"  Yes,  sir,  red  and  gray." 

"What  soups T" 

"  Julien — seati  a  la  Reine — a  la  Jardiniere — purie  k  la 
Bisque  aux  ouitres." 

"  No  possibility  of  getting  a  joint,  T  suppose  1" 

"  If  you  wait,  sir,  you  might  have  a  loin  of  muftcMi." 

"Ah!  well — what  wines!" 


144  CHEVELET  ;    OR, 

"  Here's  the  carte,  sir." 

"  Humph !  '  Champagne,  Chateau  Margot,  Nuits,  St. 
Peri,  Asti  blanc,  Hermitage  rouge,  et  blanc,  Sauteme, 
vin  de  Paille,  Hoc,  Lachrymerchrisle,  Orvietto,  vin 
D'Oporto,  Marsalla,  Xeres.'     Well,  a — " 

Here  the  major  turned  round,  and  finding  that  the  rest 
of  the  party  had  gone  up  stairs,  and  he  was  left  "  alone 
in  his  loveUness,"  said  to  the  waiter,  who  was  quietly 
transferring  a  napkin  from  one  hand  to  another,  while 
he  stood  attentively  awaiting  the  major's  directions  for 
the  extensive  dinner  he  appeared  inchned  to  order,  with 
a  pencil  ready  to  mark  down  the  numerous  items,  for 
fear  he  should  forget  them,  "Well— a— you  may  bring 
me — a — mutton-chop,  and — a — a  decanter  of  water. 
And — a — I  say,  waiter!" 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"Let  the  water  be  iced." 
"Yes,  sir." 
"  And,  waiter !' 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  Oh  I  nothing — only  be  sure  to  have  the  water  iced, 
for  I  seldom  drink  water ;  but — a — when  I  do,  I'm  par- 
ticular about  it — that's  all." 

A  mutton-chop  and  cold  water  are  not  things  to  tax 
a  man's  time  beyond  the  small  currency  of  minutes ; 
consequently,  Major  Nonplus  soon  discussed  his,  and 
with  equal  brevity  despatched  his  business  at  St.  Marc's ; 
for  the  dessert  was  scarcely  on  the  table  before  he 
joined  Lord  de  Clifford's  party,  and,  after  drinking  a 
couple  of  bottles  of  claret  (just  merely  to  ascertain  how 
it  tasted  after  iced  water),  proposed  that  the  whole  party 
should  go  to  the  theatre,  where  one  of  Alberto  Nota's 
plays,  "  I  primi  Passi  al  mal  Costume,"  was  that  even- 
ing to  be  acted.  This  motion  being  carried,  they  ad- 
journed to  the  theatre  accordingly.  In  this  play  the 
Genoese  advocate  has  drawn  an  animated  picture  of  the 
manners  of  the  higher  classes  in  Italy,  exemplified  in  a 
young  bride,  only  married  a  few  months,  who,  never- 
theless, at  that  early  stage  of  her  wedded  life,  gives  way 
to  the  follies  of  dissipation,  coquetry,  extravagance,  and 
"serventismo."  Her  heart,  however,  being  still  uncor- 
rupted,  and  her  husband  a  man  of  a  calm  disposition, 
rather  bordering  on  passiveness,  seems  to  place  entire 
confidence  in  her.  Her  father,  an  old  officer,  hasty, 
blunt,  and  credulous,  hearing  some  slanderous  report 


i 


THE  MAN  OF    HONOUR.  145 

about  his  daughter's  conduct,  proceeds  to  her  house, 
and  there  upbraids  her  husband,  whom  he  taxes  with 
weakness;  then  begins  to  rave  against  his  daughter, 
who,  by  the  help  of  one  of  tiiose  artful  assailants  so 
useful  on  such  occasions,  wards  off  his  charges,  and 
persuades  him  at  last  that  her  faults  have  been  exagger- 
ated, as  is  really  the  case,  but  that  she  is  perfectly 
irreproachable  and  guiltless,  even  of  imprudence.  The 
old  gentleman,  satisfied  with  this,  becomes  her  warm 
defender.  The  lady's  intrigue,  however,  with  a  young 
lieutenant,  which  was  at  first  a  mere  matter  of  com- 
monplace gallantry,  now  assumes  a  more  serious  and 
dangerous  aspect :  presents  and  billet-doux  are  received, 
and  all  this  under  that  most  fatal  and  deceitful  veil  of 
platonic  love,  which  in  all  such  matters  is  "  le  com- 
mencement de  la  fin ;"  the  character  of  the  lieutenant 
is  that  of  most  male  platonists,  namely,  an  artful,  heart- 
less, despicable  roue. 

The  husband,  by  means  of  an  unmarried  sister,  an 
envious,  hypocritical  woman,  whom  the  bride  has  taken 
no  pains  to  conciliate,  obtains  evident  proofs  of  his 
wife's  imprudence,  if  not  actual  guilt.  Knowing  the 
character  of  the  cavaliero,  the  sposo  devises  a  means 
of  opening  his  wife's  eyes,  by  showing  her  all  the  base- 
ness of  her  pretended  lover,  thinking  this  will  be  the 
surest  way,  with  a  spirited  mind  like  hers,  to  cure  her 
of  her  folly. 

Camilla  (the  bride)  had  planned  to  go  to  a  masked 
ball,  and  there  meet  her  inamorato.  She  had  prepared 
a  splendid  dress  for  the  occasion.  Her  husband  at  first 
forbids  her  to  go,  and  this  in  the  presence  of  her  lover, 
under  pretence  that  she  is  not  sufficiently  well ;  then, 
after  some  reflection,  seeing  her  extremely  mortified  at 
the  idea  of  being  kept  a  prisoner  at  home,  he  tells  her, 
when  they  are  left  to  themselves,  that  she  may  go,  if 
she  consents  not  to  put  on  her  new  dress  (by  which  she 
would  be  known),  and  to  accompany  him  under  a  com- 
mon mask.  They  proceed  to  the  ball,  and  there  Ca- 
milla, to  her  great  vexation,  sees  her  lover,  whom  she 
had  fondly  imagined  was  (as  in  duty  bound)  at  home 
sorrowing  over  his  disappointment ;  instead  of  which, 
he  is  devoting  himself  to  another,  and  assiduously  pour- 
ing into  her  ear  all  those  vows  and  protestations  which 
Camilla  believed  to  have  been  exclusively  her  own ! 
Nay,  more ;  she  hears  him  vehemently  disclaim  all  af- 

VoL.  I.— N 


146  cheveley;  or, 

fection  for  her,  and  add,  in  a  tone  of  insulting  pity,  that 
he  cannot  help  her  affection  for  him  ;  and  even  presents 
his  present  companion  with  Camilla's  picture  (which  he 
had  that  morning,  unknown  to  her,  abstracted  from  her 
toilet),  telling  her  it  had  been  her  last  gift  that  very  day, 
but  now  offering  it  as  an  ovation  at  the  shrine  of  his  new 
divinity.  The  veil  is  rent  from  Camilla's  eyes — the  spell 
is  broken ! 

The  next  day  she  confesses  her  weakness  before  her 
husband,  her  father  (husbands  and  fathers  take  these 
things  more  quietly  on  the  stage),  and  her  lover,  which 
last  she  upbraids  for  his  baseness.  Her  husband,  see- 
ing her  sincere  repentance  (most  obligingly),  forgives 
her,  the  lieutenant  sets  off  for  the  army,  and  the  mar- 
ried coupled  begin  a  new  career  of  domestic  happiness. 
Now,  though  this  play  certainly  was  not  exactly  a  par- 
allel to  Lady  de  Clifford's  position,  yet  was  there  quite 
sufficient  resemblance  between  the  circumstances, 
though  not  the  conduct,  of  Camilla  and  herself,  to  make 
her  feel  exceedingly  uncomfortable  throughout  the 
whole  performance.  Indeed,  of  late,  every  book  she  had 
opened,  every  conversation  she  had  heard,  seemed  as  if 
especially  to  warn  or  to  taunt  her,  to  turn  upon  the  theme 
of  female  impropriety ;  and  in  the  latter,  she  could  not 
help  thinking  that  every  one  liad  suddenly  grown  much 
more  fastidiously  moral  than  they  had  wont  to  be.  One 
scene,  however,  in  this  play  had  plunged  her  into  a  train 
of  painful  reflections,  which  were  by  no  means  either 
new  nor  unusual  with  her.  In  the  scene  where  the 
lieutenant  shows  Camilla's  picture  to  her  rival,  swear- 
ing at  the  same  time  that  he  never  loved  her,  Julia  could 
not  but  I'ecall  many  similar  scenes  in  real  life,  to  which 
she  had  been  an  eye  and  ear  witness.  How  often,  either 
prior  or  subsequent  to  some  disgraceful  and  disgusting 
trial,  whose  issue,  whether  pro  or  con,  was  to  send 
some  lovely  but  frail  (or,  it  might  be,  only  imprudent) 
woman  an  outcast  upon  the  world  for  ever,  the  theme  of 
every  gossip,  the  jibe  of  every  lackey,  had  she  seen  the 
heartless  cause  of  all  in  a  brilliant  assemblage,  mid  the 
blush  of  beauty  and  the  blaze  of  fashion,  the  gayest  of 
the  gay !  hanging  wooingly  over  another,  or  leading 
the  smile  and  pointing  the  jest  at  his  last  poor  victim, 
who  at  that  moment  had  no  companion  but  her  hot 
tears  and  her  broken  heart,  and  who,  instead  of  the  rosy 
wreaths  and  sparkling  gems  with  which  she  lately  at- 


THE  MAN  OF    HONOUR.  147 

tracted  all  beholders,  had  now  her  poor  temples  wreath- 
ed with  leeches  to  avoid  madness!  And  is  it  for  such 
cold-blooded,  heartless,  soulless  wretches  as  these,  she 
has  asked  herself,  that  a  woman  risks,  and — loses  all? 

Tlicre  are,  it  is  true,  some  men  who  arc  longer  than 
others  in  coming  to  this  determination,  but  come  to  it 
they  do  at  last;  and  altliougli  tlieir  words  may  be  less 
coarse,  their  conduct  is  not  more  delicate.  There  are 
epicures  in  love  as  well  as  in  gastronomy,  and  in  either 
case  they  like  to  prolong  and  refine  their  pleasure  as 
much  as  possible  ;  for  which  reason  tlie  epicurcaii  prof- 
ligate will,  for  some  time,  endeavour  to  honour  and  ex- 
alt his  victim  as  much  as  possible,  till  convenience,  in- 
terest, or  circumstance  make  liim  desire  a  change;  or, 
Avhat  is  more  sure  than  tiny,  till  custom,  tliat  mildew 
of  a  man's  heart,  blights  every  feeling,  and  then  there 
is  but  one  result : 

"  For  man,  seldom  jvist  to  man,  is  never  so  to  woman." 

And  why  should  he  1  since  no  wickedness,  no  meanness, 
no  treachery,  no  falsehood  he  can  be  guilty  of  towards 
them,  can  unfit  him  for  a  place  in  tlie  legislature  or  in 
society ;  and  since  no  violation  of  the  laws  of  God  can 
deprive  him  of  the  all-securing  protection  and  immuni- 
ties of  the  laws  of  man.  Lord  Byron  says  somewhere 
in  his  journal,  "  When  justice  is  done  to  me,  it  will  be 
when  tliis  hand  that  writes  is  as  cold  as  the  hearts  that 
have  stung  me."  Would  to  Heaven  that  every  woman 
had  this  sentence  engraven  on  her  heart  b)'  prescience 
instead  of  by  experience !  and  then  fewer  would  put 
themselves  in  the  way  of  more  injustice  than  every 
daughter  of  Eve  brings  into  the  world  with  her,  as  the 
mortgage  the  serpent  has  left  upon  her  sex ! 

Julia  looked  melancholy  and  dispirited,  as  she  al- 
ways did  when  reflections  like  the  above  came  across 
her.  Mowbray  perceived  it,  and,  surmising  the  cause, 
contented  himself  with  abusing  the  play  ;  the  lameness 
of  the  plot,  the  heartless  coquetry  of  Camilla,  the  dis- 
honourable conduct  of  the  lover,  the  gulhbiliiy  of  the 
father,  and  the  humble  endurance  and  Christian  forgive- 
ness of  the  husband,  all  by  turns  shared  his  animadver- 
sions as  they  walked  to  their  gondolas.  The  night 
was  soft  and  balmy  in  the  extreme,  and  the  moon 
shone  as  brightly  as  any  that  had  ever  lit  that  Adrian 
Sea ;  ever  and  anon,  fairy  sounds  floated  on  the  air,  of 


148  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

soft  mandolins  and  softer  voices,  which,  in  their  turn, 
were  echoed  by  the  ripple  of  the  oars  in  the  silver  wa- 
ters of  those  genius-haunted  waves. 

"  I  never  see  the  sea  by  moonlight,"  said  Julia  to 
Mowbray,  as  they  sat  together  at  the  head  of  the  gon- 
dola, "  without  wishing  that  I  was  Undine,  that  I  might 
plunge  in,  and  see  all  the  bright  treasures  beneath." 

"  What  an  exquisite  tale  that  is  !"  replied  he. 

"  Yes ;  and  if  she  was  supernatural,  Huldbrand  was,  at 
least,  a  true  man,  because  a/«Z5eone,"  replied  Julia, 
with  a  smile  that  was  not  seen,  and  a  sigh  that  was 
heard,  and  felt  too,  at  least  by  Mowbray. 

"  I  fear,"  said  he,  "  that  his  character  is  indeed  but 
too  true  to  nature  ;  but  the  beauty  of  the  story  consists 
in  the  beauty  of  the  allegory  ;  for  surely,"  he  continued, 
in  his  lowest  and  most  musical  voice,  as  the  gondola 
stopped  at  the  steps  of  the  Silver  Lion,  "  surely  you 
must  admit  that  we  never  liave  a  soul — at  least,  that  we 
never  feel  that  we  have  one,  till  we  love." 

"  I  admit,"  said  Julia,  trembling  violently  as  she 
leaned  on  his  arm  to  ascend  the  steps,  "  I  admit  that 
we  are  never  in  danger  of  losing  it  till  we  love." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


"True  enough;  your  plotters  bring  many  great  changes  into 
many  whole  families,  and  sometimes  into  several  and  distant  coun- 
tries, within  the  day  ;  and,  what  is  more  difficult  and  incredible, 
send  off  all  parties  well  satisfied,  except  one  scapegoat." — Walter 
Savage  Landur's  Imaginary  Conversation  between  Andrew  Marvel  and 
Miltm. 

"  I  have  often  been  puzzled  to  assign  a  cause  why  women  should 
have  the  talent  of  ready  utterance  in  so  much  greater  perfection  than 
men.  I  have  sometimes  fancied  that  they  have  not  a  retentive  power, 
or  the  faculty  of  suppressing  their  thoughts  as  men  have,  but  that 
they  are  necessitated  to  speak  everything  they  think  ;  and  if  so,  it 
would  perhaps  furnish  a  very  strong  argument  to  the  Cartesians  for 
the  supporting  of  their  doctrine,  that  the  soul  always  thinks. 

Nor  must  1  omit  the  reason  which  Hudibras  has  given,  why  those 
who  can  talk  on  trifles  speak  with  the  greatest  lluency ;  namely, 


THE   MAN    OF    HONOUR.  149 

"that  the  tongue  is  like  a  racehorse,  which  runs  the  faster  the  less 
weight  it  carries.  Which  of  these  reasons  soever  may  be  looked 
upon  as  the  most  probable,  I  think  the  Irishman's  thonght  was  very 
natural,  who,  after  some  hours'  conversation  with  a  female  orator, 
told  her  that  he  believed  her  tongue  was  very  glad  when  she  was 
asleep,  for  that  it  had  not  a  moment's  rest  all  the  while  she  was 
awake." — Addison. 

We  will  for  a  short  time  leave  Lord  de  Clifford  and 
his  party  at  Venice,  preparing  for  Madame  de  A.'s  mas- 
querade, while  we  t;ike  a  quiet  stroll  down  the  pleasant 
village  of  I'lichingly,  and  see  how  fare  matters  there. 
For  my  own  part,  there  is  to  me  an  indescribable  charm 
in  the  calm,  the  quiet,  the  soft,  the  cultivated,  and, 
above  all,  the  home  look  of  English  scenery,  which 
neither  the  gorgeous  and  Eclshazzar-like  splendour  of 
the  East,  the  balmy  and  Sybarite  softness  of  the  South, 
the  wildncss  of  the  West,  nor  the  frozen  but  mighty 
magnificence  of  the  North,  can  obliterate  or  compen- 
sate for.  England  (the  country,  not  the  people)  is 
merry  England  still.  There  is  a  youth  about  England 
that  no  other  couiUry  possesses,  not  even  the  27cw  world, 
for  there  the  vast  and  hoary  forests,  the  rushing  and 
stupendous  torrents,  all  seem  like  Nature's  legends  of 
immemorial  time.  It  lias  been  beautifully  said,  that 
"  the  world  of  a  child's  imagination  is  the  creation  of  a 
far  holier  spell  than  hath  been  ever  wrought  by  the 
pride  of  learning  or  the  inspiration  of  poetic  fancy.  In- 
nocence that  thinketh  no  evil;  ignorance  that  appre- 
hendeth  none :  hope  that  hath  experienced  no  blight ; 
love  that  suspecteth  no  guile  ;  these  are  its  ministering 
angels ;  these  wield  a  wand  of  power,  making  this  earth 
a  paradise.  Time,  hard,  rigid  teacher;  reality,  rough, 
stern  realitj'^ ;  world,  cold,  heartless  world,  that  ever 
your  sad  experience,  your  sombre  truths,  your  killing 
cold,  your  withering  sneers,  should  scare  those  gentle 
spirits  from  their  holy  temple ;  and  wherewith  do  you 
replace  them  ?  With  caution,  that  repulscth  confidence  ; 
with  doubt,  that  repellelh  love  ;  with  reason,  that  dis- 
pelleth  illusion;  v.'itli  fear,  that  poisoneth  enjoyment; 
in  a  word,  with  knowledge,  that  fatal  fruit,  the  tasting 
whereof,  at  the  first  onset,  cost  us  paradise."  And  the 
same  almost  may  be  said  figuratively  of  English  scene- 
ry; it  has  none  of  the  might  and  majesty  of  maturity, 
none  of  the  worn  and  rugged  look  of  experience,  none 
of  the  deep  and  passionate  hues  of  adolescence ;  all  its 


150  cheveley;  or, 

beauties  are  the  cared  for,  watched  over,  cultivated, 
open,  smiling,  innocent,  continually  progressing,  and 
budding  beauties  of  childhood ;  the  very  mutability  of 
its  climate  is  a  sort  of  childish  alternation  of  smiles  and 
tears;  the  repose  of  its  smooth  and  verdant  lawns  is 
like  the  soft  and  velvet  cheek  of  a  sleeping  child ;  the 
sweet  and  fairy-hke  perfume  of  its  green  lanes  and 
hawthorn  hedges  is  as  the  pure  and  balmy  breath  of 
childhood.  "  England,  with  all  thy  faults,"  and  in  all 
thy  seasons,  "  I  love  thee  still." 

"  When  spring  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip  and  the  pale  primrose  ;" 

I  like  to  hunt  for  those  yellow  cowslips  and  those  pale 
primroses,  till  I  fancy  earth  has  its  stars  as  well  as 
heaven ;  but  the  year  soon  outgrows  its  infancy,  and 
the  innocent  wild  violets  no  longer,  childlike,  roll  along 
the  green  ;  for  when 

"  The  bee  goes  round  to  tell  the  flowers  'tis  May," 

then  come  those  stately  nymphs,  the  blooming  lilachs 
and  the  graceful  acacias,  "  waving  their  yellow  hair ;" 
but  they,  like  all  beauties,  alas  !  have  but  their  day ;  and 
are  succeeded  by  rich,  blushing,  pouting  summer,  ma- 
king, with  its  roses  and  its  clierries,  every  boy  and  girl 
sick  for  love  of  it.  After  which  one  feels  more  sober 
and  sedate,  and  the  golden  harvests  and  matronly 
housewifery  of  autunm  is  more  attractive  ;  but  these 
too,  with  all  earthly  things,  must  pass  away;  the  year, 
like  man's  life,  "  falls  into  the  sear  and  yellow  leaf," 
and  for  hoary  winter's  artificial  fires,  we  must  turn  to 
the  hearts  and  hearths  of  our  own  homes. 

In  calling  Blichingly  a  village,  1  have  done  it  wrong ; 
though  not  quite  a  town,  it  was  something  more  than  a 
village  ;  the  French  call  those  mulelike  domiciles,  be- 
tween a  house  and  a  bandbox,  maisonncltes,  and  I  don't 
see  why  Blichingly  should  not  be  called  a  toivnette;  for 
it  had  one  street  of  unexceptionable  red  brick  houses, 
with  stone  copings,  brass  knockers,  and  green  balco- 
nies ;  in  which  street  (High-street,  of  course)  flourished 
two  rival  hostelries  :  "  The  Good  'Woman"  (most  un- 
gallantly  represented  by  a  headless  female),  and  the 
"  De  Clifford  Arms ;"  the  two  greyhounds  in  the  support- 
ers of  which,  punning  apart,  looked  most  doggedly  at 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  151 

the  aforesaid  virtuous  and  inoffensive  individual.  Blicli- 
ingly,  moreover,  boasted  an  excellent  market-place ;  a 
library  and  reading-room,  known  also  by  the  appellation 
of  "  The  Club  ;"  duplicate  grocers  ;  ditto  bakers  ;  ditto 
butchers  ;  ditto  haberdashers  ;  ditto  saddlers  ;  ditto  tai- 
lors ;  ditto  chandlers;  ditto  brewers  ;  ditto  printing-offi- 
ces ;  ditto  horseponds ;  in  short,  ditto  everything  but 
pumps  and  pounds  ;  of  which  there  were  four  of  the  for- 
mer and  only  one  of  the  latter.  These  duplicates,  im- 
material as  they  may  seem,  were  of  the  uttermost  im- 
portance :  for  at  election  times,  when  Triverton  (the 
county  town)  was  overflowing,  party  spirit  might  have 
run  the  risk  of  being  smothered,  did  it  not  find  vent  by 
being  extended  to  Blichingly  ;  when,  above  all,  the  four 
pumps  and  the  two  horseponds  were  found  extremely 
useful  on  the  liberal  side,  being  as  great  dampers  to 
Toryism  as  the  two  hostelries  were  incentives  to  pure 
patriotism  or  Whiggism.  It  was  about  four  o'clock  on 
a  wet  October  day,  the  rain  had  suddenly  ceased,  and 
the  sun  was  bursting  forth  in  all  its  splendour,  when  Pe- 
ter Nangle,  the  Blichingly  postman,  walked  into  the 
De  Clifford  Arms,  and  delivered  a  letter  into  the  hands 
of  mine  host,  honest  .John  Stokes.  "  Humph,"  said  he, 
turning  the  letter  in  every  direction  without  looking  at 
the  seal,  which  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  fac- 
simile of  his  own  sign,  bearing  Lord  de  Clifford's  arms  ; 
"  humph !  two  and  eightpence ;  why  this  letter  here  is  from 
/ornn  parts.  Oh  so  it  is  sure/y,"  continued  he,  looking 
for  the  first  time  at  the  seal,  and  then  added,  calling  to 
his  wife,  who  was  in  an  inner  room,  "  Nancy,  I  say, 
Nancy,  mark  down  two  and  eightpence  postage  to  the 
old  lady,  will  ee  V 

"  And  who  may  the  old  lady  be  ^  A  near  relation  to 
the  old  gentleman,  I  'spose,"  said  a  dark,  cross-eyed,  ill- 
favoured  man,  Avho  sat  by  the  fire  smoking,  and  drinking 
liot  brandy  and  water,  wiiile  an  old  man,  with  a  pale 
face  and  long  white  hair,  was  sitting  silently  and  gloom- 
ily smoking  on  the  other  side. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  John  Stokes,  as  he  desisted 
from  his  researches  in  a  Rockingham  teapot  for  a  crook- 
ed sixpence  that  he  "vvas  anxious  to  transfer  to  the  post- 
man, "  my  eye,  if  she  wor  but  to  hear  you,  your  feet 
might  know  the  feel  of  the  stocks  again.  Master  Brindal, 
before  you  was  much  older." 

"  Whew !"  whistled  the  individual  so  addressed,  who 


152  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

was  no  other  than  Ricliard  Brindal,  better  knoAvn  as 
Bring-em-down-Dick.  "  Wliew  !  then  the  relationship 
is  clearly  proved  enough." 

"  That  is  it,"  said  tlie  liitherto  silent  old  man,  with  a 
deep  sigh,  as  he  dashed  his  pipe  violently  from  him 
into  a  thousand  pieces,  and  walked  hastily  out  of  the 
house. 

"  How  old  Lee  do  tak'fe  on,"  resumed  the  ruffian, 
*'  about  Mary's  misfortune  ;  why  there's  plenty  of  lads  to 
Marry  her  yet.  I  should  not  mind  doing  it  myself  if  she 
warn't  growed  so  pale  and  so  mopey  looking,  and  if  my 
lord  would  come  down  with  anything  decent  to  support 
the  child ;  but  it's  not  pleasant  working  for  other  men's 
brats,  even  though  they  are  great  men's." 

"  Hush,"  said  John  Stokes,  who  had  by  this  time 
spelt  over  Lord  de  Cliflbrd's  letter :  "  hush,  don't  go  for 
to  say  nothink  of  the  sort,  for  here's  a  letter  from  my 
lord  his  self,  v.^ho  says  as  it  aint  hisen,  and  you  may 
read  it." 

"  Well,  if  he  says  ///a^"  said  Brindal,  "  nobody  can 
deny  that  he's  his  mother's  own  son ;  for  that's  a  whop- 
per that  would  choke  a  whale  ;  but  tip  us  the  license," 
continued  he,  stooping  to  relight  his  pipe  at  the  bars  of 
the  fire,  and  stretching  out  his  left  hand  behind  his  back 
for  the  letter,  which  ran  as  follows  : 

•'  Milan,  September  28,  18—. 
"  Stokes, — H^ave  the  goodness,  upon  the  receipt  of 
this,  to  find  out  who  poor  Mary  Lee  is  to  be  married  to. 
My  mother  (with  that  generosity  for  which  she  is  so 
distinguished)  having  given  or  ordered  Mr.  Tymmons 
to  give  her  a  hundred  pounds  for  her  dower,  out  of 
compassion  for  the  poor  girl's  insanity,  which,  I  under- 
stand, has  taken  the  turn  of  imagining  me  the  father  of 
her  child.  /  assure  you,  on  the  honour  of  a  gentleman,  I 
know  nothing  whatever  of  the  girl  personally.  I  am 
sorry  that  old  Lee  and  his  sons  should  believe  the  ra- 
vings of  the  poor  maniac,  as  I  must  ahvays  feel  grate- 
ful to  them  for  their  hitherto  zealous  exertions  on  my 
behalf  at  all  the  Triverton  elertions,  for  which  reason 
no  subsequent  conduct  of  theirs  can  ever  make  me 
either  privately  or  politically  lose  sight  of  their  inter- 
ests as  my  fellow-countrymen.  It  has  been  hinted  to 
me  through  private  channels,  that  Richard  Brindal  is  the 
father  of  Mary  Lee's  child.     I  should  be  sorry  to  con- 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  153 

deran  him  upon  mere  report;  but  could  this  be  ascer- 
tained, I  should  feel  it  my  duty,  for  the  sake  of  morali- 
ty, to  make  him  marry  her.  Is  he  in  the  country  at 
present]  But  my  chief  object  in  writing  this  is  to  tell 
you,  whenever  Mary  Lee's  marriage  takes  place,  to  pro- 
vide the  wedding  dinner,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.,  and  put  it  to  my 
account.  Farmer  Jenkins  had  better  be  invited,  with 
the  rest  of  the  Rushworth  people,  to  show  that  neither 
my  mother  nor  myself  bear  them  any  ill-will.  I  hope 
Mrs.  Stokes  is  well,  and  is  getting  her  best  blue  rib- 
ands ready  (which,  by-the-by,  become  her  better  than 
any  other),  for  they  talk  of  a  dissolution  in  the  spring. 
"  Your  well-wisher, 

"  De  Clifford." 

When  Brindal  had  finished  reading  this  mingled  tissue 
of  truth  and  generosity,  he  fairly  took  the  pipe  out  of 
his  mouth,  and  laying  it  upon  the  hob  while  he  leisurely 
refolded  the  letter,  at  length  burst  mto  the  following  el- 
oquent assertion  :  "  Well,  if  that  arn't  coming  it  pretty 
strong,  I'm  blowed  if  1  know  what  is  !  but  I  wonder 
what  chap  is  a  going  to  marry  Mary  Lee  ;  for  I've  never 
heer^d  on  it.  I  shouldn't  mind  doing  it  myself,  as  I  said 
afore,  for  that  ere  hundred  pounds  ;  I  be  so  hard  up  just 
now." 

"  What !  and  father  the  child  and  all  V  asked  Stokes, 
looking  slyly  from  under  his  eyes. 

"  W}',  I  don't  know  ezarly  what  to  say  to  that,"  said 
Brindal,  scratching  the  back  of  his  head,  and  thereby 
pushing  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  "  'cause  as  how,  j'ou  see, 
Master  Stokes, 

" '  He  as  prigs  what  isn't  hisen, 

When  he's  cotched  will  go  to  prison.' 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  And  not  being  pertickler,  I'd  rather  not 
go,  as  the  old  lady  said  when  the  devil  comed  for  her." 

"  La,  Mr.  Brindal,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  who  now  emer- 
ged from  the  inner  room  with  a  tray  full  of  pickles  that 
she  had  been  tying  up,  "  I  shouldn't  a  thought  as  you'd 
a  minded  going  to  prison;  for,  as  the  cat's  back  said  to 
the  Heabites,  it's  nothing  when  one's  used  to  it !" 

Now,  though  Mrs.  Stokes  was  fat,  fair,  and  forty,  and, 
moreover,  absolute  in  her  own  house,  yet  the  very  name 
of  Bring-em-down-Dick.  like  that  of  Rugantino  erst  of 
old  in  Venice,  carried  with  it  a  vague  terror  that  none 
cared  to  brave  ;  but  whether  it  was  that  the  very  look 


154  CIIEVELEY  ;   OR, 

of  brandy  inspires  courage,  and  that  Brindal  was  in  the 
act  of  mixing  a  fourth  tumbler  of  that  cxhihirating  bev- 
erage as  she  entered,  and  that  her  eye  fell  upon  it,  or 
upon  the  long  list  of  unpaid  chalk-suorcs  to  Mr.  BrindaFs 
account  that  graced  tlie  right-hand  side  of  the  chimney- 
piece,  or  from  "  some  stranger  cause  still  unexplored," 
but  certain  it  is  that  Mrs.  Stokes  had  never  before  ven- 
tured so  much  of,  much  less  to,  I\Ir.  Richard  Brindal ; 
and  it  is  equally  certain  that  she  had  no  sooner  said  it 
than  his  dark  sinister  look  made  her  bitterly  repent  her 
temerity.  Already  her  imagination  darted  into  futurity, 
and  she  felt  herself  minus  several  heads  of  poultry  ;  her 
han^  were  unaccountably  rusty  ;  her  gooseberry  wine 
flat  and  tart;  the  ale  at  the  De  Clifford  Arms  forsaken 
(oh  horror  of  horrors  !)  for  that  of  tlie  Good  V\'oman,  and 
her  best  China  bowls  broken  by  some  anonymous  male- 
factor, against  whom  vengeance  was  impotent.  All 
this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  she  felt  would  in  some  un- 
accountable manner  be  tlie  inevitable  result  of  her  ofi'end- 
ing  Richard  Brindal ;  a  presentiment  which  she  was 
confirmed  in  when  he  calmly  and  coolly  replied,  "  Why, 
for  that  matter.  Mis.  Stokes,  do  you  see  there  be  some 
things  that  one  dislikes  jist  because  one  is  used  to  them. 
Now  a  woman's  tongue,  too  pertly  hung,  is  one  of  them  ; 
and  for  my  part,"  continued  he,  pointing  to  the  opposite 
sign,  "  I  wish  all  sich  was  sarved  like  the  young  oonian 
in  the  picter  there." 

Poor  Mrs.  Stokes,  bent  upon  repairing  her  first  unlucky 
speech  by  the  most  obsequious  civility  and  unoffendable 
good-huinour,  began  wflh  a  benignant  smile,  though  her 
blood  Avas  running  cold  all  the  while, 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brindal,  that  is  no  wonder,  for — " 

"  No,  it  is  no  wonder,"  interrupted  Brindal,  "  'cause 
as  how  its  only  a  sign,  as  a  woman  is  never  good  for 
anything  till  her  head  has  parted  company  with  her 
body." 

There  is  no  knov/ing  whether  Mrs.  Stokes's  dignity, 
temper,  and  sex  could  have  stood  this,  or  whether  her 
.husband  might  not  have  been  obliged  to  come  to  the 
rescue,  had  not  a  red-headed  maidservant,  in  a  crooked 
and  very  dirty  straw  bonnet,  with  a  face  and'  hands  to 
match,  just  entered  with  a  cracked  teacup  and  a  request 
to  Mrs.  Stokes  that  she  would  lend  Miss  MacScreu'  a 
spoonful  of  vinegar. 

"  Well,  if  it  ain't  too  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  jerking 
the  cup  out  of  the  girl's  hand>  "  if  it  ain't  too  bad  that  a 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  155 

lady,  if  lady  she  can  be  called,  however,  that  a  woman 
with  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  in  the  three  per 
cent,  consols,  should  be  sending  to  borrow  every  hand's 
turn  from  a  poor  woman  like  nie  ;  it's  lo  be  hoped  she'll 
remember  me  in  her  will  for  all  the  grains  of  pepper 
and  salt,  spoonfuls  of  mustard  and  tea,  ends  of  candles, 
and  parings  of  cheese  she  has  had  from  this  house." 

The  spoonful  of  vinegar  having  been  given,  and  the 
red-headed  Iris  departed,  Mrs.  Stokes  inveighed  amain 
against  stinginess  in  general,  and  Miss  MacScrew's 
stinginess  m  particular,  till  John  Stokes,  who,  from 
having  formerly  been  a  clerk  in  the  Grand  Junction 
Waterworks,  never  could  see  anything  likely  to  over- 
flow without  instantly  turning  the  current,  observed, 
"  He  was  surprised  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone  had  never 
made  up  to  Miss  MacScrew,  as  he  understood  he  kept 
a  reg'lar  register  like  of  all  the  great  fortius  in  the 
whole  world ;  and  he  had  many  a  time  heard  his  furrin 
valley  say,  when  they  was  a  staying  up  at  the  Park, 
that  Mr.  Herbert  was  none  of  your  more  nice  nor  wise 
gentlemen,  for  he'd  marry  the  devil's  grandmother  (or, 
if  he  dared,  his  own  mother,  which  was  worse)  for 
money !" 

"Ah,  he  shows  his  mother-wit  then,"  said  Brindal, 
buttoning  up  his  coat  and  shaking  the  ashes  out  of  his 
pipe  as  he  prepared  to  leave  the  liouse.  No  sooner 
was  he  gone  than  Mrs.  Stokes  seated  herself  in  the 
chair  he  had  just  vacated,  and,  placing  a  hand  upon  each 
knee,  said,  as  she  looked  wistfully  at  the  before-men- 
tioned white  score,  "  I  wish,  John  Stokes,  you  would 
make  that  ere  good  for  nothink  feller  pay  up  what  he 
owes." 

"  That's  easier  said  than  done,  wife." 

"  Nonsense  !  why  don't  j'ou  bring  him  to  the  pint  at 
once  V 

"  'Cause  it's  far  easier  to  bring  him  to  the  quart, 
Nancy — ha!  ha!  ha! — than  stop  him  at  the  pint." 

"  There  you  are  again,  always  at  your  silly  jokes ;  but 
I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Stokes,  it's  no  joke  to  have 
such  rum  customers,  and  never  see  the  sight  of  their 
money." 

"  My  dear,  he's  not  a  rum  customer,  'cause  he  never 
takes  nothink  but  brandy." 

"  Flesli  and  blood  can't  stand  it,  John  Stokes,  so  it 
can't,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  darting  out  of  her  chair,  and 
seaching  down  a  black  cotton  velvet  bonnet  from  an 


156  cheveley;  or, 

opposite  peg,  which  having  placed  upon  her  head,  and 
adjusted  at  a  small  oval,  blister-like  looking-glass  that 
adorned  the  mantelpiece,  she  resumed,  turning  full  upon 
her  devoted  lord,  "  And  I  tell  you  what  it  is  too,  Mr. 
Stokes,  I  won't  stand  it  neither.  There  am  I  slaving 
from  daybreak  to  daybreak,  pickling,  preserving,  mend- 
ing, making,  brewing,  baking,  serving  the  customers, 
making  out  the  bills,  laming  the  children,  watching  that 
no  carriages  change  horses  at  the  Good  Woman,  weed- 
ing the  garden,  and  even  baiting  the  rat-traps,  while  not 
a  thing  do  you  do  from  morning  till  night  but  laugh  and 
joke,  or  drink  with  every  one  that  comes  in,  or  stand 
whistling  at  the  door  with  your  hands  in  your  pockets, 
and  go  to  bed  at  twelve,  and  never  get  up  again  till  six  the 
next  morning ;  you  great  lazy,  provoking,  good-for-no- 
thing, unaccountable,  tyrannical,  barbarous  wretch  you." 

"  Tyrannical,  my  dear,  O — " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  do ;  I  never  can  get  in  a  word 
edgeways  for  your  eternal  jabber ;  gabble,  gabble,  gab- 
ble, you  go  all  day  long  like  a  goose  in  a  pound,  in- 
stead of  listening  to  anything  that  could  be  of  service 
to  you." 

Here  Mrs.  Stokes's  attention  and  speech  were  at  one 
and  the  same  moment  interrupted,  by  observing  a  piece 
of  feline  delinquency  that  by  no  means  contributed  to 
assuage  the  indignart  feelings  she  was  already  labour- 
ing under.  A  large  tom-cat,  wlio,  during  the  com- 
mencement of  his  mistress's  oration,  had  sat  quietly 
within  the  bar,  very  demurely  purifying  his  paws,  sud- 
denly espied  upon  an  upper  shelf  a  half-knit  worsted 
stocking,  with  a  ball  of  worsted  appended  thereto ; 
this  was  a  temptation  not  to  be  resisted,  for  Toui.  like 
many  other  gentlemen  bred  to  the  bar,  delighted  in  that 
species  of  mischief  which  consists  in  the  antithetical 
process  of  entangling  and  undoing  other  people's  work ; 
so,  having,  in  an  accidental  upward  gaze,  been  attracted 
by  the  ball,  he  gave  one  quick,  darting  lick  to  his  paws, 
another  equally  rapid  circular  one  to  his  lips,  and  then 
vaulting  nimbly  upon  his  hind  legs,  stretched  forth  his 
dexter  fore  paw,  till  with  one  agile  jerk  he  brought  ball, 
stocking,  needles,  and  all,  to  his  own  level.  After  the 
first  nervous  retrograde  start  at  the  chevauoc  de  frise  of 
pointed  steel  that  seemed  to  aim  directly  at  his  eyes,  he 
returned  slowly  and  cautiously  to  the  charge,  till,  im- 
boldened  by  the  now  perfect  passiveness  of  the  needles, 
he  began  rapidly  pushing  the  ball  about  with  his  paw  in 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  157 

a  most  macelike  fashion,  as  though  he  had  been  play- 
ing biUiards  with  his  own  shadow,  till  he  at  length  suc- 
ceeded in  completely  putting  his  foot  in  the  stocking, 
and,  not  being  able  to  extricate  it  at  his  pleasure,  gave 
one  loud,  melancholy  mew,  seldom  heard  from  out  his 
noble  breast  save  when  serenading  some  feline  fair  one 
on  a  neighbouring  wall.  This  unusual  sound  it  was 
that  called  Mrs.  Stokes's  attention  to  all  the  ruin  Gri- 
malkin had  wrought ! 

Now,  gentle  reader — for  gentle  at  this  moment  I  feel 
you  are — for  even  though  you  should  have  just  returned 
from  St.  Stephen's  after  ratting,  still  the  perilous  situa- 
tion of  poor  puss  must  awaken  all  the  gentleness  in 
your  nature — well,  then,  gentle  reader,  lacerate  not  your 
too  susceptible  heart  with  unnecessary  fears  for  the  safe- 
ty of  one  who  played  not  wisely,  but  too  well.  Luckily  for 
Tom's  personal  security,  ^irs.  Stokes,  like  Monsieur 
Jourdin,  who  had  been  talking  prose  all  his  life  without 
being  in  the  least  aware  of  the  fact,  was  (equally  un- 
known to  herself)  a  profound  metaphysician,  and  there- 
fore in  the  habit  of  attributing  and  referring  the  most 
palpable  and  visible  effects  to  the  most  impalpable  and 
hidden  causes ;  consequently,  in  the  present  instance, 
she  gently  approached  the  cat,  and  in  the  most  dulcet 
tones  her  voice  was  capable  of,  apostrophized  him  as 
follows  :  "  Poor  Tommy  ;  pretty  fellow ;  Til  get  his 
paw  out  for  him  ;"  which  having  done,  she  darted  across 
the  room  to  where  her  all-enduring  spouse  was  stand- 
ing, and  dragging  him  by  that  part  of  his  left  arm  near- 
est the  shoulder,  sealed  him  by  main  force  upon  a  high 
clerk-like  stool  within  the  bar  before  the  chaotic  mazes 
of  the  stocking,  upon  which  he  gazed  mildly  and  medi- 
tatively, awaiting  his  doom,  which  his  better  half  soon 
pronounced. 

"  There,  you  great,*  mischievous,  idle,  good-for-no- 

*  It  may  oe  satisfactory  to  the  hypercritical  reader  (especially 
should  he  he  a  married  man,  and,  consequently,  too  prone  to  impute 
blame  to  wives  in  general,  and  Mrs.  Stokes  in  particular)  to  know 
that  Mrs.  Stokes,  with  true  womanly  devotion,  and  the  hyperbole  of 
wifely  affection,  overrated  her  husband  in  calHng  him  great ;  he  was, 
in  reality,  but  four  feet  two  by  one  foot  nothing,  while  she  was  portly 
as  Juno  when  she  made  the  assignation  with  Ixion,  but  albeit  (except 
her  brow)  most  unlike  her  when  she  kept  it.  How  much  better  and 
purer  the  social  system  would  be,  were  there  more  wives  like  Mrs. 
Stokes  and  Juno,  and  more  husbands  like  Mr.  Stokes !  but  "  Diis 
aliter  visum,"  and  as  for  Jupiter,  the  less  said  of  him  the  better. 

Vol.  I.— 0 


158  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

thing  feller ;  sit  there  till  I  come  back,  do  ;  and  roll  up 
that  worsted,  and  take  up  those  stitches,  and  try  and  set 
to  rights  some  of  the  mischief  you  have  done." 

"  Me,  my  dear !"  began  Mr.  Stokes,  in  a  tone  of  well- 
founded  astonishment,  mingled  with  groundless  contri- 
tion ;  "  me,  my  dear  !" 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  do,  John  Stokes ;  you' are  enough 
to  provoke  a  saint  or  a  tee-totaller,  so  you  are,  with 
your  eternal  lies  and  excuses,  let  you  do  what  you  will ; 
I  could  forgive  all  the  harm  you  do,  if  you  was  not  al- 
ways a  trying  to  defend  yourself  arterward.  None  of 
the  children  do  half  the  mischief  you  do." 

"  No,  my  dear,  no  one  accuses  them  of  it." 

"  What's  that  you  say,  Mr.  Stokes  V  inquired  his  wife, 
as  she  finished  tying  on  her  bonnet,  which  operation 
had  prevented  her  hearing  distinctly  the  remark  her  rash 
husband  had  hazarded. 

"  I  say,  my  deaf,  that  they  are  very  good  children  in- 
deed." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  they  are — thanks  to  me,  Mr.  Stokes ; 
I  should  like  to  know  what  they'd  be  if  they  took  after 
you." 

"  Not  much  the  better,  certainly,  for  there  is  little 
good  to  be  got  from  second-hand  abuse  and  ill  usage, 
which  is  all  they  could  take  after  me,  for  that's  all  I 
have  from  morning  till  night." 

This  reply  was  uttered  sotfa  voce,  although  Mrs.  Stokes 
had  retired  into  the  inner  room,  from  which  she  soon 
emerged,  armed  with  a  bottle  of  wine,  a  Sallylimn,  and 
a  pac^iet  of  tea,  all  of  which  she  destined  for  Mary  Lee, 
who  was  ill,  and  unable  to  provide  such  things  for  her- 
self. Mrs.  Stokes,  to  do  her  justice,  was  overflowing 
with  the  milk  of  human  kindness  to  every  one  of  God's 
creatures  except  the  enduring  little  animal  who  now  sat 
upon  that  high  stool  within  that  low  bar,  taking  up  the 
stitches  of  that  stocking  which  the  cat  had  dropped ; 
but  doubtless  she  thought,  as  he  possessed  the  whole 
fountain  from  which  that  lactary  stream  emanated, 
there  was  no  use  in  wasting  upon  him  any  of  its  out- 
pourings. 

Mrs.  Stokes,  having  terminated  her  preparations  by 
putting  on  her  pattens,  departed  on  her  charitable  visit 
to  Mary  Lee.  Alas,  poor  human  nature  !  why  is  it  that 
your  best  and  purest  feelings,  like  virgin  gold,  are  sure 
to  be  mixed  with  considerable  alloy  before  they  can 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  159 

pass  cun-ent  through  this  Avorld  I  Mrs.  Stokes  had  al- 
ways been  kind  and  attentive  to  INIary  Lee,  especially 
since  what  the  common  people  emphatically  call  her 
misfortune.  Tea,  soup,  and  white  bread  she  had  liberal- 
ly supplied  her  with ;  but,  though  she  had  long  been 
weak  and  ill  in  the  extreme,  she  had  never  yet  got  to 
wine  ;  but  Lord  de  Cliflbrd's  letter,  and  the  mysterious 
rumour  of  her  marriage,  all  roused  Mrs.  Stokes's  curi- 
osity beyond  concert  pitch  ;  and  though  she  could  not 
have  said  in  vino  rcnVf?.?,  she  fell  that  there  was,  and,  for 
the  first  time,  she  suddenly  recollected  that  a  glass  of 
wine  would  do  Mary  Lee  all  the  good  in  the  world. 
"  It  will  warm  her  heart,  poor  thing,  and  open  it  too, 
perhaps  ;  for  though  her  wits  wander,  her  tongue  is 
very  still,"  thought  Mrs.  Stokes,  as  she  set  out  on  her 
mission,  turning  to  give  one  parting  look  of  admonition 
to  her  husband,  who  no  sooner  knew  her  out  of  sight, 
and  believed  her  out  of  hearing,  than  he  began  singing 
Burns's  "Address  to  the  Deil,"  which  he  had  picked  up 
from  a  Scotch  pedler,  raising  his  voice,  us  was  his  wont, 
when  he  got  to  the  second  verse. 

"  Hear  me,  auld  Hangie,  for  a  wee, 
An'  let  poor  damned  bodies  be  ; 
I'm  sure  sma'  pleasure  it  can  gie, 

E'en  to  a  deil, 
To  skelp  an'  scaud  poor  dogs  like  me, 

And  hear  us  sqneel !" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  It  is  a  tale  better,  perhaps,  untold  ; 
A  dark  page  in  the  history  of  mankind, 
Which  would  be  better  wholly  l)Iolted  out : 
It  grieves  me  much  to  speak  of  evil  things, 
Thou  knowest — yet  thou  urgcst  me  to  speak. 
Well,  then,  draw  near  and  listen." 

MS. 

"  Was  there  ever  seen  such  villany  ? 
So  neatly  plotted,  and  so  well  performed  ?" 

Jlw  OF  Malta. 

Mary  Lee,  about  three  years  before  the  present  period 
of  our  history,  had  been  the  belle  of  the  village.  She 
was  deservedly  the  pride  of  her  father  and  brothers. 


160  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

Mother  she  had  none.  There  was  not  a  young  maa 
within  ten  miles  round  that  was  not,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, an  admirer  of  hers  ;  and  every  matron  in  Blich- 
ingly  cited  her  as  a  pattern  of  industry,  goodness,  and 
filial  affection ;  and  although  she  bore  off  the  palm  of 
beauty  triumphantly  from  all  her  vilhige  rivals,  yet 
such  were  her  unvarying  sweetness  of  temper  and  ac- 
tive zeal  to  oblige,  that  there  was  not  one  among  them 
who  (even  under  that  severest  test  of  female  friendship, 
the  loss  of  an  admirer  on  her  account)  could  find  it  in 
their  hearts  either  to  envy  or  dislike  her ;  two  feelings, 
by-the-by,  which  are  generally  sj'uonymous  in  the  hu- 
man heart.  Did  any  girl,  more  addicted  to  the  culling 
of  kingcups  and  the  chasing  of  butterflies,  desert  the 
dull  monotonies  of  hemming  and  sewing  for  green  lanes 
and  greener  meadows,  and  so  leave  some  task  unfin- 
ished till  the  eleventh  hour,  when  some  angry  grandam's 
or  schoolmistress's  just  displeasure  was  to  be  dreaded, 
it  was  ever  avoided  by  Mary  Lee's  good-natured  and 
prompt  completion  of  the  neglected  work.  Many  a 
long-puzzled-over  sum  had  she  also  cast  up  with  a  quick- 
ness and  fractional  correctness  that  might  have  excited 
the  envy,  while  it  compelled  the  admiration,  of  Mr.  Jo- 
seph Hume ;  she  was,  moreover,  ecrivaine  pubUque  to 
the  whole  hamlet ;  her  garden  boasted  rarer  and  better 
cultivated  flowers  than  any  other  cottage  in  Blichingly. 
No  wonder,  then,  that  her  bees  produced  more  honey 
than  any  of  her  neighbours' ;  her  poultry,  too,  had  gained 
a  well-merited  reputation,  which  made  it  sought  after 
by  every  housekeeper  far  and  near ;  while  her  hens  al- 
ways laid  sooner  and  later  than  any  one  else's ;  yet  all 
of  these  was  she  ready  to  give  or  to  lend,  as  the  occa- 
sion might  require,  to  her  less  fortunate  neighbours. 

There  is  a  sort  of  sanctifying  halo  in  breathing  an  at- 
mosphere of  affection  and  good- will,  that  precludes  all 
base  and  unworthy  feelings ;  for  the  love  of  those  by 
whom  we  are  surrounded  is  a  sort  of  moral  sunshine, 
which  expands  and  ripens  the  best  germes  in  our  nature ; 
while  to  feel  the  blight  of  envy,  hatred,  contempt,  mal- 
ice, hypocrisy,  or  ill-will,  makes  us  end  by  being  in  re- 
ality what  we  were  at  first  falsely  accused  of  being.  It 
is  the  conviction  that  every  man's  heart  is  against  us 
that  sets  our  heart  against  every  man.  Poor  Mary 
was  basking  in  the  full  meridian  of  this  moral  sunshine, 
when,  at  a  dance  given  by  the  Dowager  Lady  de  Clifford, 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  161 

at  Blichingly  Park,  to  all  her  tenants  after  a  han^est 
home,  Lord  de  Clifford  first  beheld  her  dancing  under  an 
avenue  of  fine  large  Spanish  chestnut-trees,  as  he  sat 
listlessly  smoking  in  one  of  the  library  windows,  too 
cold  and  too  proud  to  join  the  rustic  group  and  thaw 
himself  in  the  sunshine  of  happy  faces.  Equally  sur- 
prised and  riveted  by  Mary's  lirighl  and  glowing  face, 
and  her  fawnlike  and  unplebeian  figure,  he  actually  rose 
from  his  scat  with  an  intention  of  joining  the  dancers, 
or,  rather,  of  becoming  acquainted  with  her ;  but  always 
dark,  calculating,  and  designing,  even  under  his  strongest 
impulses,  he  checked  himself,  and  turning  to  his  amiable 
parent  as  he  pointed  the  amber  mouthpiece  of  his  pipe 
at  her,  inquired, 

"My  dear  ma'am,  who  is  that  very  pretty  girl  in  the 
white  dress,  and  straw  bonnet  with  blue  ribands,  that  is 
dancing  with  one  of  Lord  Sudbury's  gnmekeepers?" 

Her  ladyship  advanced  to  the  window,  and  after  hav- 
ing levelled  her  glass  at  her  for  a  few  minutes,  said, 

"  Oh  that,  my  dear,  is  Mary  Lee,  the  carpenter  and 
undertaker's  daughter — a  vaustly  clever  young  woman — 
the  best  plain-worker  in  Blichingly,  and  so  clever  about 
poultry  and  a  dairy,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  wanted 
her  to  live  with  me  as  my  maid,  but  her  father  would 
not  let  her ;  these  here  petty  tradespeople  are  so  much 
above  themselves  nowadays,  and  Mary  is  thought 
such  a  paragon  of  perfection  in  the  village.  But,  my 
dear,  you  who  used  to  be  so  vauslly  gallant,  I  wonder 
you  don't  go  out  and  flirt  with  her;  though,"  added  the 
virtuous  and  exemplary  mother,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  sup- 
pose marriage  has  spilt  you  in  this  way,  as  well  as 
every  other." 

"  Why,  my  dear  ma'am,"  replied  her  son,  with  a 
sneer  and  a  muscular  convulsion,  "  if  she  is  such  a 
paragon,  I  think  I  had  belter  go  to  work  more  cau- 
tiously." 

"Very  just  observation,  my  dear;  but  you  Avas  al- 
ways so  vausthj  clever.  I  never  shall  forget,  when 
you  was  only  four  years  old,  the  day  you  threw  the 
glass  of  wine  in  your  father's  face  after  dinner,  because, 
poor  little  dear,  you  was  screaming  for  a  whole  pine- 
apple, and  he,  in  his  usual  tyrannical  way,  ordered  you 
up  to  the  nursery!" 

Lord  de  Clifford  paid  little  attention  to  this  oft-re- 
peated anecdote,  so  illustrative  of  his  father's  tyranny 
O  2 


162  CHEVELEV  ;  OR, 

and  his  mother's  judgment  and  affection ;  for  the  vaust- 
ly  clever  boy  who  had  thrown  the  glass  of  wine  in  his 
father's  face  for  reproving  him,  was  the  equally  clever 
man  who  was  now  intent  upon  laying  a  plan  how  to 
ruin  a  poor  girl,  of  whose  innocent  and  happy  existence 
he  had  been  ignorant  an  hour  before.     If  Lord  de  Clif- 
ford did  possess  a  talent  in  the  world,  it  was  one  he 
inherited   from   his    amiable    mother,  that  of  at  once 
striking  out  upon  the  anvil  of  his  imagination  a  dark 
and  intricate  plot,  which  would   have  cost  any  man, 
with  a  grain  more  feeling  or  more  principle,  half  a  life 
to  organize.     It  would  be  a  useless  a^  well  as  a  dis- 
gusting task  to  detail  the  minutiaj  of  villany  by  which 
Lord  de  Clifford  had  effected   poor  Mary  Lee's   ruin. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  by  passing  himself  off  for  the  son 
of  a  Norfolk  farmer,  and  personating  the  character  in 
the  alternate  fascinations  of  velveteen  shooting-jackets, 
and  blue   coats  and  gilt  buttons,  he  contrived  to  meet 
her  everywhere — but  in  her  father's  house — for  three 
months,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  to  get  her  to  con- 
sent to  a  secret  and,  it  is  needless  to  add,  a  mock  mar- 
riage.    In  vain  poor  Mary  implored  him  to  allow  her  to 
confide  the  secret  to  her  father,  even  when,  if  she  did 
not  do  so,  her  disgrace  must  become  inevitable.     Still 
he  persisted  that  her  doing  so  would  ruin  him  with  his 
father  !     And   what   misery,   what   ruin,  what  shame, 
will  not  the  devotion  of  a  woman's  heart   endure,  to 
ward  off  a  shadow    of   either  from  what   she  loves  ! 
And  is  man's  return  ever  to  be  what  it  ever  has  been, 
insult,   injury,    and  desertion  ]     Ay,  even  so.     When 
Mary   Lee's    child  was  born,  in  vain  her  poor  heart- 
stricken  father  implored  her  only  to  let  him  know  who 
was  the  author  of  her  disgrace  ;   in  vain  he  promised 
pardon  if  she  would  :  still  she  was  inexorable,  merely 
assuring  him,  with  many  bitter  tears,  that  she  was  not 
disgraced,  and  that  he  should  know  all  in  good  time. 

Meanwhile  Lord  de  Clifford,  the  soi-disant  William 
Dale,  grew  less  punctual  at  their  trysting-place,  a  green 
dell  about  three  miles  from  old  Lee's  cottage,  called  the 
Fairies'  Bath,  from  a  rivulet  that  terminated  in  a  little 
oval  pond  of  crystal  water,  at  the  bottom  of  which  the 
smooth  pebbles  were  to  be  seen,  looking  round  and  white 
as  daisies.  On  tlie  summit  of  a  rock  rich  in  flowing 
shrubs,  at  the  northern  end  of  this  dell,  was  the  ruin  of 
an  old  abbey,  whose  vaults  were  supposed  to  be  the 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  163 

repository  of  the  contraband  treasures  of  a  gang  of 
smugglers,  who,  through  the  medium  of  their  coadju- 
tors, the  gipsies,  had  them  conveyed  from  a  small  sea- 
port not  fifteen  miles  distant.  It  was  from  the  ruined 
aisle  that  Lord  de  Clifford  was  wont  to  announce  his 
arrival  to  Mary,  by  throwing  a  stone  into  the  little 
pond,  as  she  stood  beside  it  in  the  dell  beneath.  Three 
months  (during  a  pretended  absence  of  his  into  Norfolk) 
had  now  elapsed  since  they  had  met  there.  It  was  a 
beautiful  summer  evening.  The  sun  was  flooding  the 
glen,  and  pressing  it  to  her  purple  west  witli  farewell 
looks  of  golden  light,  the  distant  lowing  of  the  cattle 
was  the  only  sound  to  be  heard  save  the  dreamy  hum- 
ming of  insects,  for 

"  Life  in  its  myriad  form  was  on  the  wing," 

when  Mary  Lee,  her  child  nestled  in  her  bosom,  and 
her  heart  beating  high  within  it,  once  more  repaired  to 
the  dell.  She  w  aited  some  time  listening  intensely  for 
the  well-known  signal,  till  the  very  silence  became 
audible  from  the  paniful  acutcncss  of  her  own  anxiety ; 
but  at  length,  instead  of  the  accustomed  stone,  a  heavy 
packet  fell  at  her  feet ;  she  opened  it,  and  beheld  ten 
sovereigns  enclosed  in  a  paper,  on  which  were  written 
these  words  ; — 

"  Mary, — I  cannot  stay  a  moment ;  business  of  con- 
sequence prevents  me  ;  1  send  you  ten  pounds,  for  fear 
you  should  want  money. 

"  Yours, 

"  William  Dale." 

Poor  Mary's  first  impulse  was  rapidly  to  ascend  the 
little  winding  path  that  led  to  the  ruins,  but  she  was 
startled  back  by  hearing  the  loud  quick  echo  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  galloping  along  the  upper  road ;  and  each  echo 
seemed  to  rush  through  and  trample  on  her  heart. 
Again  she  looked  at  the  few  cold  words  contained  in 
the  letter  she  still  held ;  "  business  of  consequence  !" 
she  repeated,  "  what  business  could,  what  business 
ought,  to  prevent  him,  for  one  moment  only — for  one 
moment  from  seeing  me — from  seeing  his  child — whom 
he  has  never  yet  seen  T  Money,  why  should  he  send 
me  money  ]  he  never  did  so  before ;  I  don't  want 
money." 


164  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

Here  poor  Mary  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  tears,  wliich 
were  only  checked  by  the  cries  of  her  child,  who  was 
beginning  to  feel  the  increasing  chillness  of  the  air. 
"Poor  little  thing!"  said  she,  hushing  it,  "no  wonder 
you  cry ;  you  have  cause  to  cry,  when,  he  would  not 
stay  even  one  moment  to  look  upon  you  ;  he  who  has 
never  yet  done  so  !"  And  at  this  reflection  her  tears 
flowed  afresh  :  but  as  she  retraced  her  steps  homeward, 
she  recollected  she  must  suppress  her  afiliction  before 
her  poor  father,  who  was  already  sufficiently  aggrieved 
on  her  account ;  and  then,  with  all  the  sophistry  of  a 
woman's  nature,  which  always  endeavours  to  make  ex- 
cuses for  what  it  loves,  even  when  there  are  none  to 
be  made,  she  argued,  "  He  was  busy,  he  was  hurried, 
perhaps ;  and  men  are  not  like  women  ;  they  never  think 
of  other  people's  feelings  when  they  are  engaged  or  in 
a  hurry.  It  was,  it  must  be  so  ;  for,  even  Avas  he  neg- 
lectful of  her,  he  could  not  but  be  anxious  to  see  his 
child,  whom  he  had  never  yet  beheld."  So  argued  poor 
Mary,  till  false  hope  again  filled  the  aching  void  that 
disappointment  had  left  in  her  heart.  But  again  she 
repaired  to  the  dell,  and  this  time  she  waited  till  past 
midnight,  drenched  with  rain,  and  almost  blinded  with 
lightning  ;  but  he  never  came. 

Oh  what  degrees  there  are  in  misery !  This  time 
she  would  have  givei\  all  she  possessed  in  the  world 
to  have  had  even  such  another  cold  letter  as  the  last. 
Still  once  again  she  went;  it  was  the  last  time,  at  least 
to  meet  him ;  frantically,  yet  breathlessly,  she  clung 
to  the  shrubs  that  hung  from  the  rock,  as  though  their 
leaves  had  "  voiceless  words"  that  could  tell  her  some- 
thing that  she  did  not  know,  but  longed,  yet  dreaded  ta 
hear;  her  eyes  strained  upward  to  llie  old  ruin,  and  one 
hand  passionately  straining  back  her  fair  and  silken 
hair,  that  nothing  might  impede  the  faintest  sound  of 
his  approach.  In  this  state  of  painful  suspense,  if  that 
can  be  called  suspense  which  seems  to  realize  our  worst 
fears,  she  had  waited  above  an  hour,  when  a  slight 
rustling  was  heard  among  the  shrubs.  "  William ! 
William  !"  almost  screamed  poor  Mary  ;  and  "  William  !" 
echoed  through  the  dell,  as  she  sank  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock  nearly  lifeless  ;  but  no  William  was  there.  Wlieii 
she  revived,  a  letter  only  was  lying  at  her  feet ;  she: 
tore  it  open  and  read  as  follows  : — 


THE  MAN  OF    HONOUR.  165 

"  Woman,  cease  to  persecute  me ;  the  fittest  place 
for  you  is  the  House  of  Correction.  As  I  suppose  your 
father,  being  a  respectable  man,  will  disown  you  when 
he  knows  that  -you  are  no  more  my  wife  than  1  am 
yours,  I  being,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  married  already ;  and 
as  for  your  brat,  thanks  to  the  New  Poor  Laws,  j^ou 
can  have  no  claim  upon  nic  for  that,  especially  after 
the  ten  sovereigns  I  sent  you  last  weeK.  There  is  no 
use  in  your  attemptiug  to  follow  me,  for  I  shall  have 
left  the  country  before  another  hour.  I  hope  this  may 
be  a  warning  to  you  not  to  be  so  forward  another  time 
to  any  future 

"  William  Dale." 

This,  then,  was  what  she  had  watched,  waited,  hoped, 
feared,  and  suffered  for  in  every  possible  shape !  She 
did  not  scream,  she  did  not  swoon,  she  did  not  even 
shed  a  single  tear  :  there  she  sat  on  that  mossy  stone, 
pale  as  marble,  and  as  mute  ;  the  rock  itself  might  have 
fallen  upon  her,  she  could  not  have  felt  it.  Poor  crea- 
ture !  she  did  not  suffer  ;  for  reason,  that  cruel  beacon 
that  points  out  all  our  woes,  had  left  her,  and  there  she 
might  have  remained,  had  not  Richard  Brindal,  while 
transacting  some  moonlight  business  in  the  old  abbey 
for  his  friends  the  smugglers,  towards  midnight,  had  his 
attention  attracted  by  something  white. 

Upon  looking  over  the  rock  to  see  that  no  one  lurked 
beneath,  having  taken  the  precaution  to  prime  and  load 
his  gun,  he  descended  noiselessly  by  the  little  winding 
path  into  the  glen  ;  and  once  there,  he  cried  out  boldly 
to  the  figure  beneath  the  rock,  "Who  goes  there  V  but 
receiving  no  answer  to  his  third  interrogation,  he  lev- 
elled his  piece  and  was  about  to  fire,  when  the  moon, 
at  that  moment  emerging  from  a  cloud,  discovered  the 
form,  or  what  he  at  that  time  thought  the  ghost,  of  Mary 
Lee  !  "  Why,  Mary,"  said  he,  going  up  to  her,  "  how 
nowl  what  brings  thee  here,  child,  in  this  lonely  place, 
at  this  lonely  hour !  Go  home,  my  partridge  ;  man-traps 
are  useless  in  such  a  place  as  this — ha!  ha!  ha!"  and 
the  ruffian  laughed  till  the  still  and  solemn  air  returned 
an  echo  like  a  chorus  of  fiends;  "go  home,  there's  a 
good  girl,"  continued  he,  pushing  her  with  the  butt- 
end  of  his  gun ;  "  your  child  will  be  wanting  you,  I'm 
thinking." 

"  Ah !"  cried  the  poor  maniac,  pressing  the  gun  to  lier 


166  cheveley;  or, 

bosom,  "  poor  hsby,  hush,  hush,  hush !  or  they  will  send 
us  to  the  House  of  Correction,  and  tlieyare  all  William 
Dales  there ;  not  my  William,  for  they've  killed  him, 
but  Williams  that  they  keep  to  write  those  letters. 
Hush,  luish !  or  they'll  shower  down  upon  us  those 
letters  made  out  of  the  rocks  till  they  kill  us." 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  Brindal,  while  symptoms  of  hu- 
manity actually  glistened  in  his  eyes,  "  if  she  ain't  gone 
clean  out  of  her  reason :  I  must  get  her  home  as  well 
as  I  can;"  and,  fearing  the  gun  might  go  olT,  he  extri- 
cated it  from  her  as  gently  as  possible,  and  hiding  it  in 
some  underwood,  he  took  the  unresisting  girl  in  his 
arms  and  carried  her  out  of  the  glen,  when  she  followed 
him  without  again  uttering  a  sound  till  she  reached  the 
door  of  her  father's  cottage,  when  the  shrill  bark  of  a 
little  Scotch  terrier  from  within  seemed  to  rouse  her 
into  a  temporary  and  painful  consciousness ;  she  stared 
wildly  for  a  few  moments  at  Brindal,  and  then  placing 
her  finger  on  her  lip,  said,  "  Hush,  William,  don't  you 
speak  ;  I'll  tell  my  father  all,  and  he'll  be  so  glad  to  see 
you  at  last." 

The  wretched  father,  who  had  been  anxiously  waiting 
for  his  daughter's  return,  and  wondering  and  fearing  at 
her  delay,  now  imdid  the  door,  little  imagining  the  cli- 
max of  misery  that  awaited  him.  There  stood  Mary, 
totally  unconscious  of  his  presence ;  those  eyes  which 
that  very  morning  had  been  soft  and  clear  as  heaven's 
own  blue,  now  glared  with  the  fearful  fire  of  insanity; 
those  cheeks,  which  a  few  hours  before  had  been  blush- 
ing and  downy  as  the  hues  of  a  ripe  peach  on  a  sunny 
wall,  were  now  white  as  ashes,  save  a  burning  spot  in 
one  of  them,  which  looked  as  if  it  were  consuming  her. 

"  Master  Lee,"  said  Brindal,  brushing  away  a  tear 
with  the  back  of  hi.s*hand,  "this  is  the  worst  night's 
work  I  ever  did,  to  bring  her  back  to  you  in  this  state, 
but  still  it  was  better  than  leaving  her  to  die  in  the  glen ; 
don't  ee  say  nothing  to  her,  poor  thing,  don't  ee,  but 
get  her  quietly  to  bed." 

Brindal's  request  was  useless,  for  poor  Lee  could 
not  speak.  He  drew  the  poor  maniac  to  him ;  and  as 
her  head  sank  upon  his  shoulder,  her  hand  relaxed  its 
grasp  of  the  fiendlike  letter  that  had  brought  her  to 
that  state.  Brindal  caught  it  as  it  fell,  and  gave  it  to 
her  father.  "  Mayhap,"  said  he,  "  this  may  tell  you 
more  than  I  can  about  poor  Mary." 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  167 

It  did,  indeed,  tell  but  too  well  what  it  was  almost  be- 
yond the  old  man's  power  to  bear.  "  Monster !  demon ! 
whoever  you  are !"  exclaimed  he,  grinding  his  teeth 
and  raising  his  clinched  hand,  with  which  he  inipotently 
struck  the  air ;  "  but  I  will  not  curse  you  :  for  there  are 
no  words  strong  enough  to  wrench  curses  from  the 
depths  of  hell  for  deeds  hke  these.  No,  no,  I  will  not 
curse  you,"  he  continued,  gently  parting  the  hair  off 
Mary's  pale  and  vacant  face ;  "  the  reason  that  has  left 
this  poor  beautiful  innocent  head — ay  !  innocent  despite 
ten  thousand  fiends — will  rush  to  God,  and  plead  for 
surer  vengeance  than  a  poor  worm's  like  mine ;  but  that, 
too,  the  villain  shall  have,  if  he's  above  ground.  Mary ! 
my  poor  Mary !  my  best  child !  and  has  it  come  to  this  1 
Well,  I  was  too  proud  of  you,  and  it  was  right  that  I 
should  be  humbled ;  but  you,  you  were  never  proud ; 
and  all  things  loved  you  well,  even  the  bad  and  the 
wicked — yes,  the  wicked.  And  so  the  foul  fiend  grew 
jealous,  and  came  in  person  to  talk  to  you  of  love. 
Ha !  ha !  ha !  that  is  right ;  work  away,  my  brave  boy, 
at  his  bridal  jewel-box,  and  I  will  get  the  wedding 
shrouds  ready." 

This  last  sentence  of  the  old  man's  raving  was  ad- 
dressed to  his  son,  who  was  working  late  in  an  inner 
room  at  a  workhouse  coffin.  Every  dull  dense  blow 
of  the  hammer  fell  like  a  doom,  amid  the  silent  idiotcy 
of  the  unhappy  girl,  and  the  furious  ravings  of  the 
wretched  father.  Brindal,  who  had  been  leaning  with 
his  head  and  face  against  the  wall,  subdued,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  rugged  and  warring  life,  into  more  than 
feminine  softness  and  infantine  fear,  actually  shook  like 
a  leaf  as  he  now  noiselessly  opened  the  door  of  the 
inner  room  where  George  Lee  was  at  work,  and  re- 
quested him  to  desist  from  his  occupation.  "Why!" 
inquired  the  young  man.  A  choking  sensation  in  his 
throat  prevented  Brindal  from  replying ;  but  pointing  to 
the  outer  room,  he  again  buried  his  face  in  his  folded 
arms  against  the  wall,  and,  for  the  first  and  the  last  time 
in  his  life,  sobbed  like  a  child. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  the  renewed  misery  that  en- 
sued when  young  Lee  joined  his  wretched  sister  and 
still  more  wretched  father.  The  former  he  silently 
carried  to  bed,  from  which  she  did  not  rise  tiU  many 
months  afterward.  Old  Lee  and  his  son  that  very 
night  left  their  home  in  quest  of  the  soi-disant  William 


168  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

\ 

Dale,  and  for  many  months  was  their  fruitless  search 
continued ;  and  both  father  and  son,  who  had  hitherto 
seldom  or  never  been  known  to  enter  a  public  house, 
now  spent  their  whole  time  from  one  to  another,  within 
fifteen  miles  round,  not  indeed  drinking,  for,  beyond  an 
occasional  pipe,  nothing  passed  their  lips ;  but  the  es- 
pionnage  of  the  French  police,  under  the  ancien  regime, 
never  exceeded  the  vigilant  and  minute  scrutiny  with 
which  they  possessed  themselves  of  every  fact  relative 
to  the  identity  and  locality  of  each  new  individual  that 
they  encountered,  in  the  vain  hope  of  at  last  lighting 
upon  William  Dale ;  but  without  any  other  result  than 
that  of  their  business  declining,  and  the  daily  decreas- 
ing comforts  of  their  now  desolate  home.  The  little 
garden,  once  so  neat  and  blooming,  was  a  wilderness 
of  weeds,  in  which  every  stray  half-starved  horse  or 
donkey  grazed,  and  the  poultry-j'ard  contained  little 
save  the  skeleton  pinions  of  its  former  inmates,  left 
from  the  superfluities  of  some  carrion  crow,  with  an  old 
hen  or  two,  with  drooping  feathers  and  cramped  limbs, 
fain  to  support  themselves  on  one  solitary  leg,  while 
the  gates  were  broken  and  off  their  hinges.  The  inte- 
rior of  the  cottage  had,  if  possible,  undergone  a  greater 
change,  still  kept  perfectly  clean  by  the  maid,  who  mind- 
ed poor  Mary  and  nursed  her  child.  Yet  all  around 
wore  the  coldness  and  stillness  of  death ;  for  there  is  a 
mysterious  sympathy  in  inanimate  things,  especially 
those  household  and  familiar  ones,  that  seems  to  sadden 
with  our  sadness  and  grieve  with  our  grief.  It  may  be 
but  fancy  ;  but  on  leaving  a  place  for  ever  that  has  been 
our  home,  I  have  always  thought  that  the  chairs  and 
tables  looked  less  bright,  and  more  solemn  and  fixed 
than  was  their  wont ;  but  in  poor  Lee's  cottage  this  was 
fact,  not  fancy.  The  Dutch  clock,  with  its  parterre  of 
peonies  and  eglantines,  no  longer  preached  its  hourly 
sermon  of  admonitory  ticks.  It  had  been  stopped,  for 
its  noise  seemed  to  rouse  Mary  into  a  sort  of  vague  but 
torturing  consciousness  of  those  by-gone  hours,  when 
she  used  to  watch  its  hands  with  such  anxiety.  The 
cheerful  flower-pots  no  longer  graced  the  windows. 
The  old  china  and  strings  of  birds'  eggs  were  dimmer 
and  more  dusty  than  of  yore.  The  birdcages  were  now 
empty.  Old  Lee  still  took  in  the  Penny  Magazine ;  but 
the  leaves  remained  uncut  among  the  three  or  four 
dozen  of  books  that  rested  upon  a  piece  of  green  baize 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  169 

on  the  top  of  an  old  walnut-tree  chest  of  drawers.  The 
old  brazen-clasped  Bible  was  the  only  one,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  an  odd  volume  of  Burns,  now  ever  opened 
by  him.  Amid  coloured  prints  of  the  Last  Supper, 
Moses  in  the  Bulrushes,  and  Death  and  the  Lady,  hung 
the  chef-d'oeuvre  of  poor  Mary's  industry,  a  sampler, 
commencing  with  the  following  hymn,  and  terminating 
in  a  parrot,  of  a  plumage  so  heterogeneous  that  it  would 
have  puzzled  the  best  ornithologist  extant. 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 
His  wonders  to  perform  ; 
He  plants  liis  footsteps  in  the  sea, 
And  rides  upon  tiie  storm. 

"  Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 
Of  never-failing  skill, 
He  treasures  up  his  bright  designs. 
And  works  his  sovereign  will. 

"  Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take ; 
The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessings  on  your  head. 

"  Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 
But  trust  him  for  his  grace  : 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face." 

Often  might  poor  Mary  be  seen  with  her  mild  but  va- 
cant eyes  fixed  on  these  words,  and  often  would  she 
hush  the  cries  of  her  child  by  mechanically  pointing  to 
their  bright  colours.  Deserted  by  all  her  former  com- 
panions (for  not  an  ugly  girl  in  the  village  but  crossed 
over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  as  if  afraid  of 
contamination,  when  they  had  occasion  to  pass  Lee's 
cottage),  none  ever  obtruded  on  her  solitude,  save  the 
charitable  Mrs.  Stokes,  and  Madge  Brindal,  a  gipsy  sis- 
ter of  Richard's,  who  used  to  play  with  her  child  for 
hours,  and  weave  vague  prophecies  of  love  and  ven- 
geance, to  try  and  rouse  her  from  the  state  of  torpor  in 
which  she  was  sunk ;  and  sometimes  Madge,  with  her 
wild  dark  eyes  and  mysterious  voice,  succeeded  but  too 
well ;  and  the  calm  and  passive  idiot  swelled  and  foam- 
ed into  the  uncontrolled  and  uncontrollable  maniac. 
These  paroxysms  were  always  succeeded  by  such  a 
state  of  physical  w^eakness,  that  little  hope  seemed  to 
remain  of  her  hfe :  but  there  is  a  vitality  in  madness 
that  seems  to  set  all  corporeal  laws  at  defiance,  and 

Vol.  L— P 


170  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

Mary  recovered  to  feel  and  to  suffer.  Are  they  not,  at 
least  wUh  a  woman,  synonymous  1  Her  eldest  brother 
was  apprenticed  to  a  shoemaker  in  London,  with  strict 
injunctions  from  his  father,  night  and  day,  to  prosecute 
his  inquiries  about  William  Dale. 

Old  Lee  and  his  second  son,  when  they  did  meet  be- 
neath their  own  roof  at  work  or  at  meals,  like  Trappists, 
exchanged  but  one  sentence,  which  was  invariably  the 
same,  namely,  "  Well,  have  you  heard  any  tidings  of 
him  ■?"  and  the  negative  that  ensued  was  followed  by 
total  silence.  At  the  end  of  a  year,  poor  Marj^  partially 
recovered  her  senses,  but  the  profound  melancholy  that 
succeeded  was  eve-n  more  heart-rending  to  all  save  the 
wretched  father,  who  felt  as  grateful  for  his  child's  re- 
covered reason  as  though  she  had  been  restored  to  him 
from  the  dead.  With  that  delicacy  of  tact  which  gen- 
uine feeling  always  inspires,  neither  he  nor  her  brother 
ever  alluded  to  the  past,  nor  did  Mary ;  but  whenever 
the  former  took  her  child  upon  his  knee,  the  blood 
would  rush  into  her  cheeks  and  the  tears  into  her  ej'es, 
and  she  would  hurry  away  to  the  mechanical  perform- 
ance of  some  household  work,  or  effort  to  achieve  some 
long-missing  comfort  for  the  poor  old  man.  Mary 
longed  to  know  more  of  her  own  history  tlian  she  could 
remember;  every  time  she  read  that  fatal  and  brutal 
letter  (which,  with  the  cunning  of  insanity,  she  had 
contrived  to  secure  and  secrete),  her  brain  seemed  to 
stereotype  the  words  in  fire.  And  this  told  her  own 
individual  history  but  too  plainly;  her  only  unsolved 
wonder  Avas,  how  her  father  had  become  acquainted 
with  it,  and  how  he  liad  borne  it ;  and  of  this  Madge 
Brindal,  by  degrees,  informed  her.  As  she  recovered 
sufficiently  again  to  employ  herself,  the  benevolent  Mrs. 
Stokes,  feeling  for  her  deplorable  situation,  and  the  de- 
creasing comforts  of  her  once  happy  and,  for  her  sphere 
of  life,  affluent  home,  busied  herself  in  procuring  plain 
work  for  her.  It  was  about  fifteen  months  after  the 
events  recorded  at  the  connnencement  of  this  chapter, 
that  Lord  and  Lady  de  Clifford  having  come  down  to 
Blichingly  for  the  shooting  season,  Mrs.  Stokes  made 
interest  with  Lady  de  Clifford's  maid  to  employ  Mary 
as  a  sempstress,  which  she  did  by  giving  her  some 
frocks  to  make  for  little  Julia.  About  seven  o'clock  of 
a  fine  September  evening,  Mary,  having  completed  her 
work,  put  on  a  deep  close  bonnet,  and  taking  a  back" 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  171 

way  through  the  fields,  repaired  with  it  to  the  Park. 
On  arriving  there  Mrs.  Frump  politely  requested  she 
would  rest  herself  in  the  housekeeper's  room,  although 
such  hospitality  was  expressly  contrary  to  her  mis- 
tress's commands,  from  the  circumstance  of  she  her- 
self being  in  the  habit  of  paying  frequent  and  impromptu 
visits  to  that  domestic  headquarters.  Mary,  however, 
declined  this  contraband  and  perilous  invitation,  and 
requested  to  be  shown  inunediately  into  the  presence 
of  Lady  de  Cliflord's  maid,  with  whom  her  business 
was.  Frump  having  rung  the  bell  and  desired  a  house- 
maid to  conduct  her  up  stairs  to  Beryl's  workroom, 
she  ascended  the  back  stairs  as  noiselessly  and  quickly 
as  possible.  In  crossing  the  music  gallery,  as  she  was 
turning  into  the  corridor  where  the  bedrooms  were 
situated,  her  shawl  was  caught  by  the  sharp  corner  of 
a  pedestal;  in  turning  to  disengp.ge  it  she  beheld  a  bust 
of  Lord  de  Clifibrd.  "  It  was  with  the  greatest  possible 
effort  that  she  prevented  herself  from  uttering  a  scream. 
At  this  sudden  apparition  of  those  features  so  deeply 
and  fatally  engraven  upon  her  memory,  she  was  on  the 
point  of  asking  the  housemaid  whose  bust  it  was ;  but 
poor  Mary  had  long  felt  as  if  the  very  sound  of  her  own 
voice  was  to  publish  her  shame,  and  the  wish  died  away 
unspoken.  "  Come  in,"  said  licryl,  in  reply  to  the 
housemaid's  knock.  "  A  young  woman  from  the  vil- 
lage, ma'am,"  said  the  latter,  ushering  in  Mary,  "  who 
has  brought  home  Miss  Grimstone's  frocks." 

"  Oh,  you  are  very  punctual,  I  must  say,"  said  Be- 
ryl, patronisingly,  as  she  placed  a  half-finished  cap  she 
was  making  on  a  block  before  her;  "very  punctual  in- 
deed;  and  the  work  is  very  neat;  extremely  so,"  con- 
tinued she,  scrutinizing  the  tucks.  "  Do  you  think  you 
would  be  able  to  braid  a  velvet  frock,  a  vilct  velvet  with 
narrow  gold  Russian  braid,  for  my  young  lady,  against 
the  beginning  of  next  week'!" 

"  I'll  try,  ma'am,"  said  lMar^^  modestly. 

"Well,  I'll  bexplain  to  3'ou  how  it  is  to  be  done,"  said 
Beryl,  opening  the  drawer  of  a  wardrobe  and  taking 
out  the  velvet ;  "  the  lapels  is  to  be — "'  so  far  had  she  got 
in  her  directions,  when  a  loud  voice  was  heard  calling, 
"Beryl,  Beryl." 

"  Coming,  my  lord,  directly,"  cried  she,  throwing 
down  the  velvet  with  a  gesture  of  impatience.  At  the 
sound  of  that  voice  a  shudder  and  a  faintness  came  over 


172  CIIEVELEY  ;    OR, 

Mary  Lee.  Beryl  prepared  to  leave  the  room,  but,  be- 
fore she  could  do  so,  the  door  opened,  and  Lord  de  Clif- 
ford, in  his  shooting  jacket  and  shoes,  his  gun  under  his 
arm,  and  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand,  flung  open  the  door. 
"Beryl!"  said  he,  not  perceiving  Mary,  who  stood  in 
the  shadow  of  the  wardrobe,  her  heart  standing  still  as 
she  tried  to  catch  every  sound  of  that  voice,  that  seem- 
ed like  a  fiery  serpent  to  be  hissing  through  her  brain  ; 
while  Lord  de  Clifford's  back  being  turned  to  her  as  he 
spoke  to  Beryl  at  the  door,  she  could  not  at  first  distin- 
guish his  face. 

"  Beryl,  Carlton  is  going  to  town  this  evening ;  send 
this  by  him  to  Howel  and  James's,  and  write  yourself 
besides,  telling  them  exactly  the  faults  in  the  collars  of 
the  last  shirts  ;  they  want  more  cutting  out  in  the  join- 
ing, or  something ;  and  put  down  the  name  of  the  satin 
you  say  I  like  for  neckcloths ;  here,  here's  my  list,"  and 
as  he  spoke  he  held  it  out  to  her ;  but  before  she  could 
take  it,  Mary  sprang  forward  and  seized  it,  exclaiming, 
with  a  loud  shriek  and  wild  hysterical  laugh,  as  she  grasp- 
ed Lord  de  Cliflbrd's  arm  tightly,  "  So,  William  Dale, 
William  Dale,  I  have  found  you  at  last ;  father,  I  have 
found  him !  George,  I  have  found  him !  him,  the  real 
William;  not  the  one  who  wanted  to  send  me  to  the 
House  of  Correction.  No,  no  !  he  has  been  properly 
punished  ;  they  have  tui'ned  him  to  stone,  and  he  stands 
in  a  corner  of  this  house,  looking  so  cold,  and  so  ghast- 
ly, and  so  grand,  but  so  terrible !  His  eyes  look  like 
petrified  curses,  but  indeed  I  did  not  curse  him.  No,  no, 
1  did  not ;  but  that  letter  did,  and  here  is  another  just 
like  it;  the  same  writing  exactly,  but  the  words  won't 
stand  still  for  me  to  read  them.  There,  there,"  con- 
tinued she,  plunging  it  in  her  bosom;  "there  I'll  hide 
it,  for  fear  they  should  turn  you  to  stone  with  it,  as  they 
did  the  other  William  ;  but  he  was  false,  and  cruel,  and 
deserved  it.  Let  us  go,  William,  let  us  go  ;  don't  stay 
here ;  the  very  air  feels  unkind  in  this  place.  We  will 
go  to  the  dell ;  there  are  fairies  there,  and  they  all  know 
us,  and  we'll  dance  with  them  in  the  raoonliglit.  Madge 
told  me  1  should  be  revenged ;  and  will  it  not  be  fine 
revenge  to  bury  that  stone  William  Dale  in  the  Fairies' 
Bath  ]  and  when  he  cries  to  be  taken  out,  the  other  lit- 
tle white  round  stones  will  mock  and  laugh  at  him,  and 
tell  him  not  to  persecute  them,  but  go  to  the  House  of 
Correction;  ha!  ha!  ha!" 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  173 

"  D — n  it,  what  the  d — 1  brought  her  here  1"  said  Lord 
de  Chfford,  frowning  fearfully,  and  endeavouring  to 
shake  off  the  poor  wretched  girl  ;  but  madness  was 
stronger  than  brute  force,  and  she  did  not  relax  her 
grasp. 

"  Poor  thing!"  said  Beryl,  compassionately;  "you 
must  excuse  her,  my  lord,  she  is  subject  to  fits  of  in- 
sanity ;  for  hers  is  a  sad  story  :  your  lordship  may  have 
heard  it  perhaps.  She  is  daughter  to  the  most  respect- 
ablest  man  in  all  the  village,  old  Lee  the  carpenter.  She 
has  been  cruelly  used  and  deserted  by  some  villain, 
about  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  and  she  has  never  been  in 
her  right  mind  since." 

"  And  what  the  dense  was  she  doing  up  hei"e  V  asked 
de  Clifford,  angrily,  without  evincing  the  slightest  com- 
punction for  the  scene  of  wretchedness  before  him. 

"  Why,  being  very  poor,  I  gave  her  some  frocks  to 
make  for  INliss  Grimstone,  and  she  brought  them  home, 
my  lord,  this  evening." 

"  I  really  think  you  might  have  found  a  person  of  less 
equivocal  character  to  work  for  my  daughter ;  but  get 
her  some  water,  for  I  believe  she  is  faintmg." 

Poor  Mary's  head  had  indeed  sunk  exhausted  upon  the 
shoulder  of  her  brutal  and  unfeeling  dcstroj^er.  Beryl 
walked  over  to  the  washing-slab  ami  filled  out  a  glass 
of  water;  but  Lord  do  Clifford's  object  being  to  get  her 
out  of  the  way,  in  order  to  try  and  intimidate  Mary  into 
going  quietly  home,  he  changed  his  genuine  inhumanity 
into  his  mother's  ever  diplomatically  successful  suaviler 
in  modo  fortitcr  in  re  line  of  conduct,  and  when  Beryl 
brought  the  water,  he  said  in  a  pitying  tone,  "  Poor  girl ! 
she  seems  so  very  weak,  that  1  tliink  wine  would  be 
better  for  her  ;  go  down  and  ask  for  some  claret." 

As  Beryl  closed  the  door,  she  could  not  help  mutter- 
ing to  herself,  "  Well,  I  do  declare  it  was  too  bad  to 
talk  about  poor  Mary's  character,  when  she  was  lying 
quite  mad,  and  nearly  dead  before  him  ;  but  them  there 
sort  of  profligate  men,  as  every  one  knows  he  is,  is  so 
severe  on  us  women  ;  but  it  always  was  so,  even  in  the 
Bible,  for  how  wicked  and  spiteful  Amnon  was  against 
Taraar ;  while  no  one  ever  heard  of  Joseph's  saying  a 
bad  word  of  Mrs.  Potiphar,  though  she  richly  deserved 
it ;  but  men  who  behave  themselves  properly  never 
speak  ill  of  the  women." 

No   sooner  had  Beryl  gone  than  Lord  de  Clifford 
P  2 


174  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

shook  Mary  rudely,  and,  calling  her  by  the  most  oppro- 
brious names,  threatened  to  give  her  in  charge  to  a  con- 
stable if  she  did  not  instantly  leave  the  house.  This 
roused  the  poor  girl  into  a  sort  of  half  reason,  that  filled 
her  with  a  bitter  and  burning  hatred  of  her  cruel  and 
fiendlike  betrayer.  "  Know,  woman,  whom  you  are 
speaking  to,"  cried  he ;  "  I  am  not  William  Dale  that 
you  rave  about ;  I  am  Lord  de  Cliflbrd,  son  to  the  owner 
of  these  broad  lands,  upon  which  you  and  your  family 
are  poor  mean  serfs." 

Wounded  pride  is  a  necromancer  that  converts  the 
strongest  love  into  the  strongest  and  most  implacable 
hate  ;  let  no  man,  therefore,  be  surprised,  when  he  has 
sharpened  a  woman's  heart  upon  the  whetstone  of  in- 
sult, if  it  becomes  a  two-edged  sword  and  is  pointed 
against  himself.  Mary  Lee  seemed  changed  as  if  by  a 
magician's  wand  on  the  instant.  No  longer  (even  in 
madness)  the  soft,  the  gentle,  the  affectionate,  the  en- 
during, the  forgiving  victim,  reason  seemed  to  have 
returned  to  her  as  a  gigantic  and  mighty  weapon.  She 
drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  scorn  quivered  in  her 
lip,  hatred  curdled  her  cheek,  vengeance  burned  and 
lightened  in  her  eyes  :  there  she  stood  like  an  imbodied 
curse,  as  if  her  very  breath  had  power  to  wither  her 
betrayer;  even  he  trembled  beneath  the  loud,  relentless, 
delibei"ate  tone  in  which  she  spoke ;  every  word  that 
fell  upon  his  ear  seemed  like  a  prophecy  impelled  by  its 
own  force  to  its  own  fulfilment.  As  William  Dale,  Mary 
still  hoped,  and,  therefore,  could  have  forgiven ;  but  in 
the  conviction  that  her  seducer  was  Lord  de  Clifford, 
she  felt  the  premeditation  of  the  insult,  the  hopeless- 
ness, the  irreparableness  of  the  injury. 

'■  You  are  Lord  de  Clifford,"  said  she,  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly, as  she  folded  her  arms  and  measured  him  with 
a  scornful  look  from  head  to  foot ;  "  then  listen  to  what 
you  are.  You  are,  in  your  own  opinion,  a  great  lord ; 
in  that  of  the  world,  your  own  great  world,  a  pompous, 
proud,  disagreeable  man  ;  in  that  of  the  poor,  a  sordid, 
avaricious  tyrant,  who  promises  great  things  in  his 
speeches  at  elections,  and  does  mean  ones  to  every  one 
sufficiently  humble  to  allow  him  to  do  so  with  impu- 
nity :  and  in  mine,  you  are  a  cold,  selfish,  remorseless 
villain,  whose  dark  deeds  (despite  this  world's  might, 
which  is  always  right)  will  yet,  and  that  at  no  far  distant 
Hme,  work  out  their  own  punishment." 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  175 

Luckily  for  herself,  during  this  scene  Lady  de  Clifford 
was  below  stairs  in  the  billiard-room,  rolling  about  the 
balls  to  amuse  her  little  girl ;  but  the  dowager  being  in 
her  own  room,  which  was  opposite  to  the  one  in  which 
Beryl  worked,  was  startled  by  the  loud,  excited  tone  of 
Mary's  voice  :  she  opened  her  door  and  crossed  the  cor- 
ridor just  as  Beryl  returned  with  the  wine,  and,  follow- 
ing her  into  the  room,  said  to  her  son,  by  way  of  an 
apology  for  her  intrusion,  "  My  dear,  it's  nearly  eight 
o'clock  ;  ain't  you  dressed  for  dinner  yet !" 

"  Oh  my  dear  ma'am,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  bland  com- 
passion, got  up  to  suit  poor  Mary's  restored  reason  and 
its  probable  consequences,  "  here  is  a  terrible  business ; 
this  is  poor  Mary  Lee  that  I  have  often  heard  you  men- 
tion. Poor  girl !  her  madness  has  now  taken  the  turn 
of  identifying  me,  or,  rather,  confounding  my  identity 
with  that  of  William  Dale,  her  seducer," 

This  amiable  parent  knew  pretty  well  the  real  truth 
of  the  case,  for  her  sons  placed  such  unbounded  confi- 
dence in  her  in  some  things  that  they  seldom  or  ever 
concealed  any  of  their  peccadilloes  from  her.  Mothers 
of  narrower  and  more  fastidious  minds  might  have  felt 
insulted  at  this;  but  she,  with  juster  and  more  liberal 
views,  attributed  it  entirely  to  their  unbounded  affection 
for  her.  Knowing,  therefore,  how  matters  really  stood 
in  the  present  instance,  she  merely  replied, 

^^Vaustli/  impertinent,  though,  of  her  madness  presu- 
ming to  take  such  a  turn  !  Very  odd,  Lady  de  Cliflbrd's 
maid  emploj'ing  such  a  person  ;  that's  one  reason  I  do 
hate  having  otlier  people's  servants  in  the  house,  they 
take  such  liberties  and  breed  such  confusion  :  very  re- 
miss in  Frump  never  having  told  me  of  it  till  ten  minutes 
ago,  or  I  certainly  should  have  made  Mr.  Tymmons 
warn  her  off  the  premises  as  she  came  through  the  Park, 
for  I'll  have  no  such  hussies  coming  here." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  mother,"  interposed  her  son,  still  more 
amiably  than  before,  "  poor  thing !  she  appears  more  to 
be  pitied  than  blamed." 

"  I'm  sure,  ni)'^  dear,  it  does  great  credit  to  your  head 
and  hart,  to  say  so,  and  gentlemen,  I  know,  are  not  so 
particular  about  these  things  as  ladies;  but  you  must 
allow  it  is  very  unpleasant  to  have  such  people  brought 
into  one's  house." 

"  She  will  soon  be  out  of  it,  my  lady,"  said  Beryl, 
darting  a  look  ol[  indignation  at  her  ;  "  for  I  sent  for  her 


176  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

father,  when  I  was  down  stairs,  to  take  her  home,  poor 
thing!" 

Footsteps  being  now  heard,  her  ladyship  also  thought 
fit  to  assume  a  bland  tone,  and  turning  to  Mary,  said, 
"  My  good  girl,  now  do  go  home  ;  one  of  tlie  servants 
shall  go  with  you ;  j'ou  see  it's  all  a  mistake  ;  this  gen- 
tleman is  Lord  de  Clifford,  my  son,  and  we  know  no- 
thing at  all  about  this  here  William  Dale  that  you've 
been  a  talking  about." 

Mary  neither  spoke  nor  moved,  but  surveyed  the  old 
lady's  withered  and  hypocritical  visage  with  ineffable 
contempt.  At  any  other  time,  both  mother  and  son 
would  have  resented  such  conduct  in  a  very  summary 
and  arbitrary  manner ;  but,  as  the  artificers  of  her  ruin, 
they  were  in  her  power,  and  they  felt  it,  to  say  nothing 
of  vulgar,  spurious  pride  like  theirs  being  always  mort- 
gaged with  a  counterpoise  of  meanness  and  cowardice. 
A  telegraphic  look  now  passed  between  them,  upon 
which  her  ladyship  advanced,  and  affectionately  placed 
her  hand  upon  Mary's  arm ;  but  the  poor  "  lowborn 
serf"  started  at  the  touch,  and  shook  her  off  as  though 
a  serpent  had  stung  her. 

"Poor  thing!"  resumed  the  ancient  dissembler,  in  a 
tone  of  counterfeit  feeling  that  a  Jesuit  might  have  en- 
vied ;  "  poor  thing,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  her  wits  wan- 
der." 

"  So  much  so,"  said  Mary,  in  a  tone  of  withering 
scorn,  "that,  had  I  not  known  you  by  repute  these 
eighteen  years,  I  might  almost  believe,  from  your  man- 
ner now,  that  you  had  some  touch  of  human  feeling." 

"  'Pon  my  word,  this  is  too  inso — " 

"  My  dearest  mother,"  interrupted  her  amiable  son 
(for  a  knock  was  now  heard  at  the  door),  "  you  must 
make  allowances  for  insanity."  This  last  word  was 
uttered  at  the  top  of  his  voice  as  he  added, "  Come  in," 
to  the  person  at  the  door,  and  a  footman  entered,  say- 
ing, "  Lee,  the  carpenter,  is  in  the  passage,  ray  lord." 

"  Tell  him  to  come  in." 

The  old  man  entered  with  a  pale  and  agitated  face. 
"  Servant,  my  lady,  servant,  my  lord ;  1  fear  my  poor 
girl,  from  her  dreadful  affliction,  may  have  frightened 
you,"  said  he,  walking  kindly  up  to  Mary,  who  held  out 
her  hand  to  him. 

"  Make  no  apologies,  my  good  fellow,"  dulcified  Lord 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  177 

de  ClifForcI ;  adding',  as  he  turned  up  his  eyes, "  madness 
is  indeed  an  awful  dispensation  of  Providence." 

*'  Father,"  said  Mar}^  solemnly,  as  she  walked  reso- 
lutely into  the  midst  of  the  assembled  group,  which 
now  only  consisted  of  her  father,  Lord  de  Clifford,  and 
his  motlier,  wlio,  Avith  her  usual  prudence,  had  desired 
Beryl  to  leave  the  room ;  "  Father,  I  am  not  mad ;  I 
have  been  mad,  and  I  may  be  so  again,  but  I  am  not  mad 
now  ;  and  the  man  you  have  sought  night  and  day,  that 
you  have  watched  for  early  and  late,  that  you  have  left 
all  things  to  seek,  till  all  things  have  left  you,  that  man 
now  stands  before  you  !  that  man  is  not  William  Dale, 
but  Lord  de  Chfford  !" 

The  old  man  turned  from  what  he  thought  the  dis- 
tempered raVings  of  liis  afflicted  child  wiib  a  look  of 
hopeless  wretchedness  to  tlio  author  of  it  all,  who 
pityingly  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sighed  out,  "  Poor 
thing!" 

Again  Mary  repeated  more  solemnly  and  collectedly 
tlian  before,  "  I  am  not  mad,  father;  under  the  assumed 
name  of  William  Dale,  and  in  the  pretended  guise  of  a 
farmer's  son,  that  man  wrought  your  temporal  and  my 
eternal  ruin ;  before  you  he  alTects  to  pity  me  ;  but  when 
I  was  alone  witli  him,  not  half  an  hour  ago,  there  was 
no  threat,  however  mean  and  brutal,  he  did  not  use  to- 
wards me.  You  still  think  I  rave  ;  look  at  his  features, 
and  look  at  my  child's ;  that  child  has,  as  you  know, 
the  mark  of  a  strawberry  on  the  right  side  of  his  throat ; 
so  has  that  man,  and  I  challenge  liim  to  show  it,  I  dare 
him  to  deny  it." 

"  Do,  my  lord,  have  the  goodness  to  humour  her,  by 
showing  her  that  you  have  no  strawberry  on  your 
throat,"  asked  old  Lee,  imploringly  ;  but  mother  and  son 
now  lost  their  temper  at  being  driven,  as  it  were,  into  a 
corner,  from  wliich  they  could  see  no  chance  of  escape 
except  by  bullying  and  bravado. 

"  Really,  'pon  my  soul,  this  is  going  a  little  too  far, 
my  friend,"  said  Lord  de  Clifford.  "  There's  no  know- 
ing what  length  your  daughter's  insanity  may  reach 
next,  and  I  really  cannot  comply  with  any  proposition 
so  absurd." 

The  poor  carpenter  looked  at  the  great  man  with 
somewhat  of  the  contempt  that  his  daughter  had  previ- 
ously bestowed  upon  him  ;  and  this  refusal  on  his  part 


178  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

did  more  to  convince  Lee  of  Mary's  sanity  than  any- 
thing she  could  have  done  or  said. 

"  No,  depend  upon  it,  lie  will  not  show  it,"  resumed 
Mary,  calmly  ;  "  but  there  is  something  that  1  will  and 
can  show,  that  may  convince  you  that  William  Dale 
and  Lord  de  Cliflbrd  are  one  and  the  same  person ;" 
and,  as  she  spoke,  she  drew  from  her  pocket  the  letter- 
case,  out  of  whicli  she  took  the  letter  addressed  to  her 
by  William  Dale,  and  taking  from  lier  bosom  the  list 
Lord  de  CUflbrd  had  written  out  and  signed  for  Howell 
and  James,  she  handed  them  to  her  father,  saying, 

"  Compare  these  two  hands  as  minutely  as  you  will, 
and  you'll  find  the  one  an  exact  copy  of  the  other." 
As  Lee  received  them,  the  dowager,  being  through  pas- 
sion thrown  completely  off  her  guard,  made  a  snatch  at 
them,  but  he  held  them  tightly  above  his  head. 

"  Your  ladyship  must  excuse  me,"  said  he;  "you,  I 
am  inclined  to  think,  need  no  proofs  of  your  son's  guilt; 
I  do  ;  to  me  they  may  be  useful ;"  and  so  saying,  he 
walked  to  the  window  and  compared  the  two  writings, 
which  were  indeed  fac-si miles.  When  the  examina- 
tion was  over,  tlie  old  man  groaned  aloud,  and  walking 
up  to  Mary,  drew  her  arm  within  his  own.  '■  Poor 
child  !"  said  he,  "let  us  leave  this  accursed  house." 

"  You,"  said  he,  as  he  passed  Lord  de  Clifford,  who 
stood  with  his  arms  folded,  his  lips  compressed,  his 
nostrils  dilating,  and  his  eyes  glaring  like  a  demon : 
"  you  are  a  rich  and  a  great  man,  I  am  a  poor  and  a 
lowly  one,  but  there  is  the  same  God  in  heaven  for  us 
both,  and  we  shall  meet  again." 

"  I'm  sure,  my  dear,"  said  his  virtuous  and  exempla- 
ry parent,  as  the  old  man  closed  the  door,  "  I  hope  this 
will  be  a  lesson  to  you  never  again  to  have  anything  to 
say  to  those  sort  of  low  girls,  but  keep  more  among 
your  equals  in  all  these  here  affairs  de  cur  !  for  you  see, 
my  dear,  what  insolence  it  subjects  you  to."' 

Mary  Lee  from  that  day  was  an  altered  being ;  though 
her  reason  wandered  occasionally,  yet  it  was  but  for 
short  intervals,  and  those  "  few  and  far  between."  She 
seemed  as  though,  from  a  mighty  effort  within  herself, 
to  retain  it  against  its  will,  so  as  to  gratify  the  burning 
and  unquenchable  thirst  for  vengeance  that  now  con- 
sumed her;  but  to  strangers,  and  even  to  her  chief 
friend  and  counsellor,  Madge  Brindal,  she  often  assu- 
med a  degree  of  imbecility  that  was  far  from  real,  in  fur- 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  179 

therance  of  her  designs,  which  were,  never  to  lose  sight 
of  Lord  de  Clifford's  plans  as  far  as  she  could  ascertain 
them,  in  the  hope  of  achieving  that  vague  and  shadowy 
revenge  which,  matured  as  it  was  by  Madge's  mysteri- 
ous prophecies,  became  a  part  and  attribute  of  her  ex- 
istence. And  Lord  de  Clifford!  what  change  did  this 
dark  episode  make  in  his  existence  1  None,  save  that 
of  determining  him  to  go  abroad  a  little  sooner  than  he 
otherwise  might  have  done,  and  leaving  Blichingly  im- 
mediately. What  other  change  could  it  make  1  for  no 
one  knew  poor  Mary  Lee,  and  every  one  knew  Lord  de 
Clifford ;  a  Mecanas  in  his  way,  a  spawncr  of  Whig 
pamphlets,  and  a  crack  political  writer  in  the  "  Edin- 
burgh ;"  he  crammed  newspaper  editors  with  good  din- 
ners, and  they  crammed  him  with  praise;  he  figured  in 
paragraph  after  paragraph  as  "  that  enlightened  and  pa- 
triotic nobleman,  whose  liberal  policy  and  just  views 
had  triumphed  over  the  accident  of  birth  and  the  preju- 
dice of  station,  and  who,  to  his  eternal  honour  be  it 
spoken,  had  taught  the  people  that  all  greatness,  all 
freedom,  all  justice,  and  all  morals  !  must  emanate  from 
themselves !" 

With  regard  to  his  personal  and  individual  code,  when 
his  vices  did  not  interfere  more  actively,  his  was  that 
philosophy  of  indolence  which  the  epicurean  Roman 
taught,  and  which  looks  upon  life  only  as  a  visionary 
pageant,  and  death  as  the  deep  sleep  that  succeeds  the 
dream.  vSuch  philosophy,  "  falsely  so  called,"  ever  has 
been,  and  ever  will  be,  destructive  of  all  pure  ajid  lofty 
feelings ;  an  antidote  to  all  that  is  ennobling  and  good  ; 
a  plague-spot,  dark,  pestilent,  and  all-corrupting,  in  the 
soul  of  that  man  who  harbours  it.  And  did  the  image 
of  poor  Mary  Lee,  a  wreck  in  mind,  body,  and  soul,  never 
overshadow  his  pleasures  or  shake  his  ambition  1  It 
has  been  ascertained  that  there  is  iron  enough  in  the 
blood  of  forty-two  men  to  make  a  ploughshare  w^eigh- 
ing  about  twenty-four  pounds  :  Lord  de  Clifford  had  re- 
versed the  order  of  nature  in  this,  as  in  most  other 
things — he  had  iron  enough  in  his  single  composition  to 
have  made  forty-two  ploughshares. 


180  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  If  it  will  feed  nothing  else,  it  will  feed  my  revenge. 
He  hath  disgraced  me,  and  liindered  me — laughed 
At  my  losses  *  *  * 

Cooled  my  friends,  heated  mine  enemies." 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

"  A  tale  of  human  power — despair  not — list  and  learn ! 
I  looked,  and  lo  !   one  stood  forth  eloquently  ! 
The  eyes  were  dark  and  deep,  and  the  clear  brow 
Which  shadowed  them  was  like  the  morning  sky, 
The  cloudless  heaven  of  spring,  when  in  their  flow 
Through  the  light  air  the  soft  winds  as  they  blow 
Wake  the  green  world  ;  her  gestures  did  obey 
The  ocular  mind  that  made  the  features  glow." 
****** 

P.  B.  Shelley. 

"  What,  returned,  captain!" 

Schiller's  Robbers. 

When  Mrs.  Stokes  reached  Mary  Lee's  cottage,  it  was 
almost  dark,  for  the  clouds  had  again  gathered  in  black 
masses,  and  predicted  an  impending  storm.  She  hur- 
ried up  the  little  wilderness  of  a  garden,  and  finding  the 
door  shut,  tapped  at  the  window ;  but  receiving  no  an- 
swer, she  tried  to  raise  the  latch  of  the  door,  which, 
however,  resisted  her  efforts,  being  locked  from  within. 

"  Dear  me,  how  provoking !"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  as 
large  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall,  and  a  loud  peal  of 
thunder  rolled  above  her  as  though  it  would  rend  the 
heavens  ;  "  they  cannot  be  all  out,  surely  ?  Bless  me, 
how  it  lightens  !"  and  Mrs.  Stokes  placed  her  hand  be- 
fore her  eyes,  and  hurried  round  to  the  back  of  the 
house,  to  seek  admittance  there  ;  but  the  thunder  grew 
louder  and  louder,  and  her  appeals  for  admittance  were 
either  unheard  or  unheeded.  "  How  very  tiresome  !" 
reiterated  Mrs.  Stokes  ;  "  I  shall  be  drowned.  I'll  try 
and  get  in  at  the  window  of  Lee's  workroom."  So 
saying,  she  walked  up  to  it,  but  stood  transfixed  to  the 
spot  at  the  scene  she  beheld  within. 

In  the  large  old  chimney  blazed  a  wood  fire,  on  which 
was  placed  a  tripod,  surmounted  by  a  large  black  iron 


THE   MAN   OF  HONOUR.  181 

pot ;  in  one  corner  of  the  ample  chimney  stood  a  bundle 
of  green  fagots ;  in  the  opposite  one  was  a  cradle,  in 
which  slept  a  rosy-cheeked  child  of  about  three  years 
old,  unconscious  alike  of  the  scene  within  and  the  storm 
without ;  while  on  the  top  of  the  cradle,  like  a  tutelary 
saint,  sat  a  large  black  cat,  with  one  white  ring  round 
her  tail,  the  tail  itself  being  curled  round  her  paws,  while 
she  was  luxuriating  in  that  dignified  and  perpendicular 
sleep  which  only  cats,  dogs,  and  somnambulists  enjoy. 
At  one  side  of  the  cradle,  in  fearful  proximity  to  the 
fire  (unless  his  paws  were  insmed),  lay  a  mosaic  of 
sleeping,  watching,  and  waking,  in  the  person  of  httle 
Wasp,  the  Scotch  terrier,  l^vo  vacant  high-backed 
chairs  were  at  either  side  of  the  fireplace  on  the  outside 
of  the  chimney  ;  in  the  seat  of  one  of  them  was  a  very 
dirty  pack  of  cards,  a  pewter  soup-plate  full  of  a  dark- 
looking  fluid,  a  cut  lemon,  and  a  raw  pigeon  with  the 
entrails  taken  out;  on  the  back  of  the  other  chair  hung 
a  gipsy  hat  and  a  red  cloak,  and  in  the  seat  of  it  was  a 
pair  of  thick  but  small  shoes,  with  very  large  silver 
buckles;  round  the  whitewashed  walls  of  the  room  glit- 
tered and  gleamed,  like  death's  armory,  various-sized 
leaden  coffin-plates  and  handles  ;  against  the  wall  oppo- 
site the  window,  on  a  large  deal  vvorkboard,  was  a  large- 
sized  but  lidless  coffin,  apparently  just  finished ;  the  floor 
was  covered  with  shavings  and  carpenters'  tools ;  all, 
save  a  circle,  in  the  centre  of  which  were  marked  and 
chalked  out  several  rectangular  lines  ;  within  this  cir- 
cle stood  Mary  Lee  and  INladge  Brindal,  the  former  in 
the  black  dress  and  Quaker-like  cap  she  always  wore ; 
her  fair  hair  parted  on  her  high,  clear  forehead ;  her 
cheeks  colourless,  but  still  with  that  sort  of  pale  bloom 
that  is  seen  in  a  Provence  rose  ;  her  mouth  was  the  only 
citadel  that  health  had  not  deserted,  it  was  full  and  rich 
as  ever;  the  beautifully  curved,  short  upper  lip,  gently 
parted,  like  a  twin  cherry,  from  the  red,  pouting  under 
one ;  yes,  health  still  seemed  as  though  it  clung  to 

.  "  Those  yet  cool  lips  to  share 

The  last  pure  life  that  linger'd  there." 

Her  small,  white,  and  almost  shadowy  hands  were  cross- 
ed upon  her  bosom,  as  she  peered  into  the  mysterious 
depths  of  her  companion's  wild  prophetic  eyes,  as  though 
time  and  eternity  were  to  be  read  within  them.  Through 
the  almost  Ethiopian  darkness  of  Madge  Brindal's  cheek 
Vol.  I.-Q 


182  CHEVELET  ;    OR, 

was  a  rich,  red  glow,  like  that  of  fire  against  a  midnight 
sky ;  her  profile  was  chiselled  in  the  most  perfect  Greek 
outline ;  the  mouth  was  handsome,  but  somewhat  sen- 
sual; but  then  the  teeth  within  it  were  so  pearl-like  and 
costly,  that  no  wonder  it  seemed  a  little  epicurean ;  her 
eyes  were  large,  dark,  and  lustrous  in  the  extreme,  and 
■would  have  been  fierce  but  that  they  were  curtained  with 
lashes  so  long  and  so  soft  that  they  almost  made  one 
sleepy  to  look  at  them ;  the  brows  above  them  were  low, 
straight,  and  intellectual ;  her  hair,  which  was  of  that 
purple  black  seldom  seen  but  on  a  raven's  wing,  was 
braided  back  beneath  a  red  handkerchief,  put  on  much 
after  the  fashion  of  an  elderly  Roman  Contadina ;  not 
much  above  the  middle  size,  her  full  and  voluptuous  fig- 
ure might  have  been  heavy  had  it  been  less  perfectly 
moulded.  She  wore  a  short  green,  glazed  stuff  petticoat, 
with  a  short  bedgown  of  bright  red  striped  calico,  the 
sleeves  of  which  were  now  turned  up,  displaying  a  beau- 
tifully rounded  arm,  singularly  white  compared  to  her 
hands,  which  were  Isrown  and  rather  coarse,  this  being 
rendered  the  more  apparent  by  being  covered  with  very 
showy  but  trumpery-looking  gold  and  silver  rings,  glit- 
tering with  coloured  stones ;  on  her  feet  were  bright 
blue  worsted  stockings,  without  shoes  ;  and  just  before 
them  was  placed  a  small  brazier,  from  which  issued  a 
thick,  dense  smoke,  as  ever  and  anon  Madge  threw  into 
it  with  her  left  hand  some  mystic  powder,  while  with 
her  right  she.  waved  over  it  a  green  cypress  branch,  re- 
peating at  the  same  time  some  low,  unintelligible  words. 

Such  was  the  picture  that  presented  itself  to  the  as- 
tounded and  disconsolate  Mrs.  Stokes,  as  she  peered  in 
through  a  hole  in  the  window-shutter,  the  firelight  bla- 
zing before  her,  and  the  lightning  flashing  behind,  while 
the  wind  whistled,  and  the  hailstones  rattled  against 
the  windows  like  dice  in  a  dicebox.  "  The  Lord  have 
mercy  upon  me  !"  cried  she,  her  knees  trembling  and 
her  teeth  chattering  a  second  to  the  contralto  of  the 
hail.  "What  in  the  name  of  wickedness  are  they  about  ? 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  make  them  hear  me,  for  the 
noise  of  this  terrible  storm.  If  John  Stokes  had  been  a 
man — but  then  every  one  knows  he  isn't — he'd  have 
come  with  me,  and  not  have  let  me  come  out  alone  such 
an  evening  as  this." 

Now  it  is  evident  that  Mrs.  Stokes's  metaphysical  and 
logical  perspicuity  must  have  been  corapletely  uprooted 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  183 

by  the  storm ;  and  that  she  was  incapable  of  reasoning 
categorically,  or  she  must  have  remembered  that  Tom- 
my and  her  own  orders  (and  which  had  the  most  weight 
in  her  menage,  it  would  have  puzzled  Archimedes  and 
all  his  successors  to  decide)  were  the  sole  causes  of  Mr. 
Stokes  not  having  braved  the  storm  without  as  well  as 
that  within.     Scarcely  had  Mrs.   .Stokes  uttered   this 
zoological  assertion  with  regard  to  her  husband,  when  a 
peal  of  thunder  and  a  flash  of  lightning,  more  awful  thaa 
the  last,  seemed  to  threaten  her  with  instant  deafness 
and  blindness  ;  but  "  fiat  justitia,  ruatcoeluni."     So  Mrs. 
Stokes,  at  that  very  moment,  bethought  herself,  that,  be- 
ing as  deficient  in  ubiquity  as  in  most  other  talents,  her 
sposo  could  not  at  oiie  and  the  same  moment  be  taking 
up  the  stitches  the  cat  had  dropped,  and   holding  that 
itinerant  waterspout,  ycleped   an  umbrella,  over   her 
head;  therefore,  with  a  candour  and  recantation  of  er- 
ror peculiar  to  great  minds,  she  added  a  protocol  to  her 
last  sentence  of,  "Oh!  I  forgot."     Again  Mrs.  Stokes 
approached  the  aperture  in  the  shutter  and  gazed  upon 
the  scene  within,  when,  to  her  horror,  slie  beiield  upon 
the  whitened  wall  of  the  room  the  phantasmagoria  of  a 
horse  galloping  down  a  precipice;  a  man  thrown  from 
it,  and  a  red  stream  flowing  from  him.     The  face  she 
could  not  distinguish,  as  it  was  upon  it  that  he  had  fall- 
en.    The  smoke   now  rose    from  the  brazier  in  such 
dense  masses,  while  Madge  continued  to  repeat  her  in- 
cantations over  it,  that  tlie  whole  phantom  became  ob- 
scured by  it;  and  when  at  length  it  was  succeeded  by 
a  clear  blue  lambent  flame,  the  plain  wall  became  visi- 
ble and  colourless  as  before,  while  the  lurid  flame  play- 
ed upon  Mary's  pale  fixed  features  and  unearthly-look- 
ing eyes,  leaving  her  as  like  a  shade,  to  all  appearance, 
as  the  one  she  had  just  witnessed.     Madge  stood  gazing 
inquiringly  into  her  face,  while  she  held  the  cypress 
branch  triumphantly  above  her  head,  pointed  at  the  wall. 
This  she  continued  to  do  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  let 
it  drop  into  the  lidless  cofl[in. 

Mrs.  Stokes  could  hear  no  more.  Her  teeth  chatter- 
ed, her  head  reeled.  She  with  difficulty  supported  her- 
self against  the  wall  as  she  muttered,  "  The  Lord  have 
mercy  upon  me  1  If  they  ain't  a  raising  the  devil,  or 
doing  something  worse!  Poor  Mary,  to  be  sure,  she 
has  no  reason  left  to  know  better  ;  but  that  Wi»ch  of  En- 
dor,  MadgG  Briadal,  deserves  to  be  dragged  through  a 


184  cheveley;  or, 

horsepond  for  such  diabolical  doings,  and  I'll  break  open 

the  door  and  tell  her  so." 

Here  Mrs.  Stokes  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and 
vigorously  pushed  her  by  no  means  slight  person 
against  the  door,  which  shook  beneath,  without  yield- 
ing to  the  attack.  She  was  preparing  to  return  to  the 
charge,  when  the  remembrance  of  the  mysterious  evil 
wrought  by  Richard  Brindal  (aided,  no  doubt,  by  his  sis- 
ter's necromancy)  on  all  to  whom  he  owed  a  grudge, 
checked  her,  and  she  resolved  not  to  interfere  in  what 
evidently  did  not  concern  her,  but  go  quietly  round  to 
the  other  side,  and  again  try  if  she  could  not  effect  an 
entrance  at  the  front  door. 

With  this  prudent  resolve  Mrs.  Stokes  walked,  or, 
rather,  swam  into  the  front  garden,  where  the  wind  was 
less  violent  than  at  the  back  of  the  house ;  and  where, 
consequently,  her  appeals  for  admission  had  a  better 
chance  of  being  heard.  While  Mrs.  Stokes  was  still 
knocking  with  a  stone  against  the  cottage  door,  she 
heard  a  rustling  in  the  hedge  on  her  left  hand,  and  pres- 
ently a  loud,  well-toned,  deep  voice,  bearing  evident 
symptoms  of  inebriety,  from  occasional  hiccoughings 
and  tremulousness,  singing — 

"  The  Deil  came  fiddling  through  the  town, 
And  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman  ; 
And  ilka  wife  cried  '  Auld  Mahoun, 
We  wish  you  luck  o'  the  prize,  man.' 

"  We'll  mak  our  maut,  and  brew  our  dnnk. 
We'll  dance,  and  sing,  and  rejoice,  man ; 
And  monie  thanks  to  the  mickle  black  Deil 
That  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 

"  There's  threesome  reels  and  foursome  reels, 
There's  hornpipes  and  strathspeys,  man  : 
But  the  ae  best  dance  e'er  cam  to  our  Ian' 
Was — the  Deil's  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 

We'll  mak  our  maut,"  &c. 

*' Why,  bless  me!"  cried  Mrs.  Stokes,  as  the  singer 
cleared  the  hedge  and  stood  beside  her,  "  Captain  Datch- 
et !  that's  never  you,  to  be  sure '?  If  I  did  not  think  you 
was  away  in  the  Ingees !" 

"  Ship  a-hoy,  there  !"  cried  the  person  so  addressed, 
unceremoniously  placing  his  arm  round  Mrs.  Stokes's 
substantial  waist,  and  drawing  her  towards  him ;  "  where 
are  you  steering  for,  my  trim  little  craft,  with  the  wind 
right  ahead—eh  1" 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  185 

'*  Lor,  captain,  do  let  me  go,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  strug- 
gling to  free  herself;  "  1  see  you  hain't  left  none  o'  your 
old  tricks  behind  you.  But  1  expect  John  Stokes  here 
every  moment,  and  though  he  is  sich  a  hatomy,  it  would 
never  do  for  him  to  find  you  at  this  work." 

"  Why,  my  pretty  chaflinch,  is  that  you,"  said  the 
stranger,  releasing  Mrs.  Stokes's  waist,  and  grasping  her 
hand  like  a  cable,  and  shaking  it  violently ;  "  why,  what 
made  you  weigh  anchor  such  a  night  as  this  1  and  how 
is  honest  John  !  forgotten  the  very  smell  of  real  Cognac, 
I  suppose.  I've  been  so  many  months  away,  and  you,  I 
suspect,  have  begun  to  doubt  whetlier  there  are  any 
more  ribands  made  in  France,  you  have  been  so  long 
fain  to  put  up  with  a  poor  mongrel  Coventry  topknot: 
but  my  name  is  not  Miles  Datchet  if  you  don't  sooa 
hoist  gayer  pennants  than  ever,  that  sliall  you  ;"  and  here 
he  wrung  her  hand  more  violently  than  before. 

Miles  Datchet  was  a  great  man  in  his  way,  having' 
committed  every  crime  sliort  of  murder,  and  being  so 
totally  devoid  of  every  species  of  principle  as  to  be 
almost  fit  for  a  prime  minister,  except  that  he  was  never 
known  to  break  faith  with  his  coadjutors,  and  was  no- 
torious for  that  species  of  honour  proverbially  to  be 
found  among  thieves.  These  shades  of  human  weak- 
ness, which,  alas !  sometimes  obscure  the  greatest 
minds,  would  certainly  have  militated  against  his  ob- 
taining the  pinnacle  of  political  greatness,  and,  therefore, 
it  is  lucky  that  destiny  had  assigned  to  him  a  career  of 
less  scope — that  of  a  mere  sea  politician,  alias  pirate. 
His  genius  for  intrigue  was  so  great,  that  he  had  acted 
the  part  of  a  successful  spy  under  several  governments, 
faithfully  serving  all  and  each,  never  being  able  (as  he 
philosophically  observed)  to  discover  any  difference  in 
the  colour,  weight,  and  currency  of  tlie  coin  of  the  realm, 
whether  the  helm  of  state  were  swayed  by  Whig  or 
Tory ;  save  that  he  had  been  heard  to  confess  that  it 
flowed  more  freely  and  certainly  from  the  latter,  as 
though  they,  like  the  iNIilesian  gentleman  of  the  road 
from  whom  their  name  is  derived,  entertained  juster 
ideas  of  the  distribution  of  wealth  than  most  modern 
political  economists ;  while  the  sweetest  promises  of 
the  Whigs  were  apt  to  turn  as  soon,  and  become  as  un- 
available, as  the  original  of  tiieir  own  soubriquet.  But 
in  England,  where  morality  is  preached  more  and  prac- 
tised less  than  in  any  other  country  of  the  known  world, 
Q2 


186  CHETELKY ;     OR, 

Miles  Datchet  knew  too  well  the  value  of  that  most 
powerful  of  all  talismans,  appearances,  not  to  study 
them  upon  all  occasions ;  consequently,  his  nominal 
calling  was  that  of  captain  of  a  merchantman ;  and 
though  he  did  sell  French  brandy,  French  silks,  and  La- 
tikai  tobacco,  cheaper  than  English  could  be  purchased, 
yet  no  one  thought  of  attributing  the  phenomenon  to 
any  other  cause  but  an  excess  of  philanthropy,  which 
made  him  anxious  touching  the  comforts  and  luxuries 
of  all  his  fellow-creatures ;  and  Purely  a  universal  phi- 
lanthropist could  not  defraud  any  man,  merely  because 
he  had  the  misfortune  to  be  an  exciseman  ! 

Among  the  female  portion  of  the  community,  a  very 
handsome  Salvator  Rosa-like  face  and  commanding 
figure  might  have  ensured  him  popularity,  even  had  he 
been  less  generous  in  his  gifts  brought  from  all  parts  of 
the  world ;  and,  added  to  a  great  deal  of  natural  humour, 
he  possessed  a  mosaic  of  anecdotes  collected  from  every 
point  of  the  compass.  At  Blichingly  he  \Vas  a  universal 
favourite  ;  and  had  any  doubts  ever  been  entertained  of 
his  cleverness,  they  would  have  been  entirely  removed 
upon  his  having  once  effected  a  Glaucus  and  Diomede 
exchange  with  Miss  MacScrew :  that  lady  was  the 
happy  possessor  of  a  gold  box  containing  a  nutmeg- 
grater,  which  she  was  wont  to  affirm  had  belonged  to 
the  Pretender. 

Captain  Datchet,  through  a  mysterious  eloquence 
known  only  to  himself,  undertook  to  convince  her  that 
it  was  pinchbeck,  offering  her  in  exchange,  for  the  pal- 
try sum  of  three  guineas,  a  real  pinchbeck  one,  assu- 
ming the  travelling  title  of  gold,  which  he  said  had  for 
many  years  belonged  to  old  Elwes  the  miser,  and  had 
always  been  called  by  him  his  lucky  box,  as,  to  use  his 
own  forcible  words,  money  actually  appeared  to  breed 
in  it.  All  Blichingly  was  aware  of  the  truth,  save  and 
except  the  fair  MacScrew  herself;  and  as  no  one  had 
the  cruelty  to  undeceive  her,  her  eyes  always  sparkled 
at  the  sight  of  Miles  Datchet,  with  the  conscious  pleas- 
ure of  having  overreached  him  ! 

Datchet's  present  mission  to  Lee's  cottage  was  to  look 
for  Madge  Brindal,  who  was  (with  all  due  respect  to  ap- 
pearances) his  Blichingly  sultana.  He  had  returned 
from  the  Levant  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself, 
sooner  than  she  or  any  one  else  had  expected ;  and 
having  been  to  the  gipsy  haunt  at  the  old  abbey,  above 


THE   MAN   OF   HONOUR.  187 

the  Fairy  Bath,  and  finding  it  deserted  by  all  save  a 
gipsy  boy,  who  was  picketing  some  donkeys  in  the 
close,  he  learned  from  him  where  Madge  was  most 
probably  to  be  found,  and  lost  no  time  in  seeking  her, 
which  will  account  for  his  sudden  apparition  before 
Mrs.  Stokes. 

"  But,  seriously,"  resumed  Datchet, "  what  could  bring 
you  out  such  an  evening  as  this!" 

"  Indeed,  you  may  well  ask,  captain,"  replied  Mrs. 
Stokes,  wringing  the  wet  out  of  the  skirts  of  her  petti- 
coats ;  "  but  it  did  not  rain  when  I  set  out,  and  I  came 
to  bring  Mary  Lee  some  wine  ;  for,  poor  thing!  I  think 
she  grows  weaker  and  weaker;  more  melancholy  and 
moping-like ;  and  we've  had  a  letter  from  my  lord,  as 
says  she's  a  going  to  marry  Richard  Brindal ;  but  we 
haven't  heerd  nothink  on  it ;  and,  what's  more  cur'us 
still,  he  hain't  heerd  nothink  on  it  either,  so  I'm  come 
to  hear  what  she  says ;  but,  lord,  here  have  I  been  a 
knocking  and  knocking,  first  at  one  side  of  the  house 
and  then  at  the  other,  till  I'm  almost  drowned;  to  say 
nothink  of  seeing  the  hawfullest  things  imaginable,  and 
can't  make  them  hear,  do  what  I  will." 

Totally  regardless  of  the  latter  part  of  Mrs.  Stokes's 
speech,  Datchet  gave  a  long  shrill  whistle  as  he  took 
up  a  stone  to  knock  at  the  door,  and  then  repeated,  nod- 
ding his  head, 

"  When  the  dove  marries  with  the  crow, 
Then  we'll  hear  the  green  grass  grow, 
And  the  blind  mole  shall  straightway  find 
He  can  see  the  rushing  wind." 

*'  Helo,  there !"  said  a  voice,  as  Datchet  was  again 
besieging  the  door. 

"Oh!  Mr.  Lee,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  turning  round  to 
the  person  who  had  called  out,  "  I'm  so  glad  you  have 
come  at  last,  for  I  have  been  trying  till  I  am  tired  to  get 
in;  and  only  guess  who's  arrived!"  continued  she, 
pointing  to  Miles  Datchet. 

"How  are  you,  my  boyV  said  the  latter,  grasping 
Lee's  hand  as  cordially  as  he  had  previously  done  Mrs. 
Stokes's. 

"  Why,  captain !  what  wind  blew  you  here !"  asked 
the  old  man,  as  he  placed  his  carpenter's  basket  on  the 
step  of  the  door,  and  felt  in  his  pockets  for  the  latch-key. 

"  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good,"  replied 
Datchet,  avoiding  a  direct  answer ;  "  and  I  dare  say 


188  CHEVELEY  ;    OB, 

you  can  smell  the  Virginian  weed  in  it  by  this  time,  and 
it  won't  be  the  less  easily  smoked  because  I  did  a  crew 
of  d — d  Yankees  out  of  il ;  but  that's  an  after-supper 
yarn  ;  so  open  tlie  door,  my  hearty,  and  let  us  get  under 
hatches  before  another  squall  comes  on." 

"  How's  thisl"  said  Lee,  as  he  pushed  open  the  door, 
and  entered  the  dark  and  firelcss  front-room  of  his  cot- 
tage ;  "  this  is  but  a  cold  reception,  captain.  My  poor 
girl !  my  poor  girl !  I  suppose  she's  ill  again." 

"  No,  no,"  interposed  Mrs.  Stokes,  good-naturedly ; 
"don't  ee  fret.  Master  Lee,  I  know  where  she  is;  it's 
all  right,  only  she  did  not  expect  you,  I  suppose  ;  and  if 
you  and  the  captain  will  just  wait  here,  I'll  go  and  bring 
them  to  you,  for  Madge  is  with  her."  So  saying,  she 
passed  her  hand  along  the  wall  till  she  found  the  door, 
which  having  done,  she  opened,  and  groped  her  way 
along  the  narrow  passage  till  she  came  to  the  door  of 
the  workshop,  to  which  she  was  directed  by  the  firelight 
w^hich  streamed  from  beneath  it.  Her  first  impulse  was 
to  turn  the  handle  suddenly,  and  boldly  appear  before 
the  guilty  pair  in  the  midst  of  their  unhallowed  rites; 
but  Madge  Brindal,  the  witch,  deserving  of  a  horsepond 
a  few  minutes  before,  v/as  now  transformed  into  the 
reigning  favourite  of  the  all-powerful  Captain  Datchet; 
a  person  not  to  be  offended  with  impunity ;  so  charity 
and  toleration,  in  the  visionary  forms  of  Lisle  lace  and 
silk  dresses,  flitted  across  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Stokes,  and 
"wrought  a  mighty  change,"  that  caused  her  to  knock 
gently  at  the  door,  and  calmly  enter  to  the  as  gentle 
response  of  "  Come  in." 

All  traces  of  the  late  scene  had  passed  away.  Maiy 
and  her  comp^iion  were  quietly  seated  at  the  fire  ; 
Mary  with  her  irms  folded,  and  her  eyes  intently  fixed 
upon  the  blazing  fagots  before  her,  and  Madge  thrown 
back  in  her  chair,  wjth  little  Wasp  in  her  lap,  deluding 
him  into  the  belief  that  she  had  some  hidden  treas- 
ure in  her  hand,  by  holding  it  above  her  head,  and 
keeping  him  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation,  like  many  a 
cleverer  dog,  grasping  at  a  chimera ! 

"Mary,  love,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  "your  father  is  come 
home,  and  wants  some  fire  and  some  supper ;  and  here 
am  1,  lik  a  drowned  rat,  knocking  for  the  last  half 
hour,  first  at  one  door,  then  at  the  other,  and  could  not 
make  any  of  you  hear.     What  have  you  been  about  1" 

"  Why,  who  could  hear  in  such  a  storm  as  this  1" 


THE    MAN   OP   HONOUR.  189 

asked  Madge,  seeing  that  Mary  was  too  much  abstract- 
ed to  answer  ;  and  fearing  that,  if  she  did,  she  might  let 
out  too  much  of  the  truth. 

"  Why,  that's  true  enough,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Stokes  ; 
"  but  if  the  storm  was  ten  times  greater,  I  suppose  you 
could  hear  good  news  V 

"  Good  news !  what  news  V  gasped  Mary,  with  that 
vague  anticipation  of  a  something  which  for  ever 
haunts  the  wretched  and  the  forsaken. 

"  Why,  I  have  good  news  for  you  too,  poor  child," 
rephed  Mrs.  Stokes ;  "  but  it  will  keep  till  by-and-by, 
for  they  are  waiting  in  the  next  room  without  either 
fire  or  light ;  so  make  haste,  and  let  us  go  to  them." 

"  And  who  may  they  and  them  be,  pray  V  inquired 
Madge. 

"  Ay,  there  it  is  now,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes ;  "  that's  my 
news,  and  it  concerns  you,  Madge ;  who  do  you  think 
is  come  back  V 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Madge,  listlessly ; 
"  Richard,  I  suppose ;  for  that  kettle  is  full  of  rabbits 
and  pheasants,  wiiich  I  found  here  this  afternoon  ;  so 
I  suppose  he's  come  back  from  the  north,  for  that's 
generally  the  way  he  leaves  his  card ;"  and  Madge 
laughed  as  she  rose  to  deaden  the  blaze  under  the 
savoury  mess  of  game  and  vegetables  that  was  boiling 
over  the  fire. 

"  No  ;  guess  again  ;  you  are  WTong  for  once  in  your 
life,  Madge,  though  your  brother  is  returned,  for  he 
was  at  our  house  this  afternoon;  but  it  is  not  him  I 
mean." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose,  then,  it's  Freddy  Flipps,  whom  I  sent 
to  Rushworth  this  morning  about  a  covered  cart  to  take 
us  to  Triverton  fair." 

"  No,  no  ;  you  must  go  a  great  deal  farther  than 
Rushworth  ;  you  are  miles  away  from  being  right  yet ; 
miles  away,  Madge  ;"  and  Mrs.  Stokes  held  her  sides  as 
she  laughed  at  her  own  wit. 

"  Why,"  said  Madge,  her  cheek  flushing  and  her  eyeg 
flasliing,  as  she  advanced  a  step  or  two  and  looked  in- 
quiringly into  Mrs.  Stokes's  face,  "  you  have  not  heard 
anything  of  Miles  Datchet,  have  you  1  The — the  cap- 
tain— I  mean." 

"  What  if  I  had  not  only  heard  of  him,  but  seen  him  1" 

"  Impossible !"  said  Madge ;  "  he  is  far  away  at  sea 
now ;  and — " 


190  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Only  a  plank  between  him  and  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  1  do  speak  out,"  said  Madge,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Well,  well,  Madge,  I  see  you  are  not  a  witch  after 
all ;  and  so,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  Captain 
Datchet  is  in  the  next  room." 

Madge  rushed  hastily  to  the  door ;  but  suddenly  rec- 
ollecting that  Datchet,  like  all  great  men,  was  tena- 
cious as  to  decorum,  she  walked  leisurely  back  to  the 
cradle  where  Mary's  child  was  sleeping,  merely  saying, 
as  she  passed  Mrs.  Stokes,  "Is  he  really  V  and  then 
added,  turning  to  Mary,  "  I'll  take  up  little  William,  if 
you'll  carry  the  candle,  Mary :  and  I  dare  say  Mrs. 
Stokes  will  be  so  good  as  to  take  a  burning  brand  in  the 
tongs  to  light  a  fire  in  the  next  room." 

All  these  arrangements  made,  accompanied  by  a  little 
crying  on  the  part  of  the  child  at  being  disturbed,  the 
procession  moved  into  the  front  room,  headed  by  Mrs. 
Stokes  with  a  burning  log,  followed  by  Mary  with  the 
candle,  while  Madge  brought  up  the  rear  with  the  child. 
Mrs.  Stokes  lost  no  time  in  dashing  forward  to  her  des- 
tination, the  fireplace,  to  deposite  her  fiery  burden ;  and, 
when  there,  had  a  great  deal  of  stooping  and  blowing 
to  prevail  on  the  damp  fagots  within  it  to  imitate  the 
example  of  the  new  arrival.  Mary,  as  was  her  wont, 
threw  her  arms  round  her  father's  neck ;  so  there  was 
nothing  left  for  Captain  Datchet  to  do,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  root  of  all  evil,  idleness,  but  to  imprint  divers 
salutes  upon  the  peachlike  cheeks  and  coral  lips  of 
Madge,  under  the  pretext  of  kissing  the  child ;  while  he 
slipped  a  Venice  chain  and  a  pair  of  Genoa  earrings 
into  her  hand,  which  she,  with  equal  dexterity,  conceal- 
ed in  her  bosom,  acknowledging  these  \a.st  gages  d^ amour 
with  a  tender  pressure  of  the  hand. 

"  I  hope,  Mary,  you  have  some  supper  for  us  1"  said 
Lee  to  his  daughter. 

"  Yes,"  said  Madge ;  "  thanks  to  Dick's  return,  you've 
no  stint  to-night." 

"  I  don't  like  game,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  sigh,  the 
full  meaning  of  which  Madge  knew  but  too  well  partly 
alluded  to  her  brother's  lawless  avocations,  and  partly 
to  his  own  fallen  state  in  having  such  friends  and  as- 
sociates. 

"  Beggars  must  not  be  choosers,"  retorted  Madge,  her 
eyes  flashing  and  her  neck  stretched  to  its  most  swan- 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  191 

like  dimensions;  "  and  when  the  craft  and  villany  of 
the  rich  man  has  the  power  of  depriving  us  of  our  bread, 
it  is  lucky,  to  say  nothing  of  justice,  that  the  cunning 
of  the  poor  man  has  sometimes  the  power  of  supplying 
the  deficiency." 

"  Madge,  you  are  right,"  said  the  old  man,  holding  out 
his  hand  to  her  as  he  brushed  away  a  tear  with  the  back 
of  the  other ;  "  and  I — I — am  a  pusillanimous  fool — but 
it  won't  always  be  so." 

"  Right !  to  be  sure  she's  right,"  said  Datchet,  applaud- 
ingly, as  he  filled  his  pipe  from  a  supply  of  tobacco  in 
the  side-pocket  of  his  rough  sailor's  jacket,  and  held  it 
to  the  candle ;  "  and  may  all  poor  men,  who  approve  of 

"  '  Laws  for  the  rich,  and  poor-laws  for  the  poor,' 

never  have  anything  better,  say  I ;"  and  here  he  gave 
a  puff  of  sufficient  strength  and  density  to  have  blown 
away Great  Marlborough-street." 

"  Well,"  said  Madge,  with  restored  good-humour, "  I'll 
go  and  see  about  supper." 

"  And  I,"  cried  Datchet,  gallantly  removing  the  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  sticking  it  in  his  left- hand  waistcoat 
pocket,  with  the  bowl  upward,  "  I'll  go  and  help  you." 

There  is  a  proverb  which  asserts  that  "many  hands 
make  light  work."  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  very  certain 
that  Madge  Brindal's  preparations  for  supper  did  not 
appear  at  all  expedited  by  her  having  the  assistance  of 
Captain  Datchet,  for  an  unaccountably  long  time  elapsed 
before  they  returned  with  even  the  knives,  forks,  plates, 
and  other  preliminaries  for  supper.  However,  their 
absence  gave  Mrs.  Stokes  the  wished-for  opportunity 
of  sounding  Mary  as  to  her  reported  marriage  with 
Richard  Brindal ;  so,  after  she  had  prevailed  upon  the 
fire  to  light,  hung  her  cloak  and  bonnet  before  it,  and 
turned  herself  slowly  round  and  round,  for  the  space  of 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  so  as  to  give  her  nether  garments 
the  benefit  of  its  impartial  influence,  she  ventured  to 
sit  down,  and  drawing  her  chair  close  to  Mary's,  and 
pulling  out  her  apron  tightly  at  each  side  (as  laundresses 
draw  out  pocket-handkerchiefs)  while  she  spoke,  she 
thus  opened  her  mission. 

"  Mary  dear,  what's  this  I  hear  about  your  going  to 
marry  Richard  Brindal  ?" 

Mary  raised  her  eyes,  and  fixed  them  steadily  upon 
her  companion  as  she  answered  calmly  and  coldly — 


192  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Mrs.  Stokes,  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  even  kind 
when  all  others  became  the  reverse — and  that  is  a  thing 
not  to  be  forgotten ;  yet  I  know  not  that  even  that  mir- 
acle authorizes  you  to  insult  me  with  such  a  question." 

"  Well,  well,  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Stokes,  soothingly, 
as  she  drew  Lord  de  Clifford's  letter  out  of  her  pocket, 
"  don't  be  angry,  for  you  see  greater  folks  than  I  have 
heerd  on  it;  for  here's  a  letter  from  my  lord  his  self, 
who  makes  very  handsome  offers  in  case  you  should 
marry  Richard,  and  so  does  the  old  lady  too." 

If  Mary  could  grow  paler,  she  did,  as  she  convul- 
sively seized  the  letter,  and  ran  her  eye  wildly  over  its 
contents. 

"  Monster !  cold-blooded  wretch !"  she  exclaimed, 
clinching  her  hand  when  she  had  read  it;  "all  your 
plots  shall  not  succeed ;  the  poor  lowborn  serf,  the  out- 
cast, the  insignificant  maniac  whom  you  would  make 
still  madder,  may  still  be  too  much  for  you." 

Lee,  who  had  been  looking  over  a  file  of  old  bills  at  a 
waliuit-tree  bureau,  now  took  off  his  spectacles,  and 
laying  them  upon  the  top  of  it,  walked  over  to  his 
daughter,  and  placing  his  arm  round  her  waist,  kindly 
drew  her  towards  him. 

"  How  now,  Mary  1"  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  assumed 
cheerfulness ;  "  I  should  have  thought  you  had  too  much 
sense  to  be  ruffled  by  a  paltry  electioneering  trick,  and 
that  letter  is  nothing  more ;  as  we  cannot  give  the 
writer  his  deserts,  suppose  we  treat  ii  as  it  deserves, 
and  put  it  into  the  fire." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mary,  gra-sping  the  letter  tightly,  and 
holding  it  over  her  shoulder,  "let  birds  of  a  feather  go 
together;  there  are  more  of  the  same,  and  with  them  it 
shall  remain;  see  if  they  won't  make  a  precipice  yet." 
And  here  she  gave  one  of  those  shrill  idiotic  laughs, 
which  echoed  like  a  knell  in  the  poor  old  man's  heart, 
the  more  so  that  it  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  seen 
or  heard  her  so  excited.  The  word  precipice  recalled 
the  incantation  scene  vividly  to  Mrs.  Stokes's  recollec- 
tion ;  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  ex- 
claimed with  a  shudder,  "  The  Lord  be  good  to  us !" 
and  then  added,  with  that  indescribable  want  of  tact 
peculiar  to  vulgar  minds,  "  well,  give  me  back  the  letter, 
do,  there's  a  dear."  Mary's  only  reply  to  this  appeal 
was  to  turn  full  upon  Mrs.  Stokes  one  of  those  vacant, 
petrifying  looks,  which  were  often  assnmed  to  gain  her 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  193 

point,  and  which,  from  fiUing  all  beholders  with  inde- 
scribable terror,  never  failed  to  do  so.  "  Well,  well," 
said  Mrs.  Stokes,  in  answer  to  it,  *'  keep  the  letter,  dear, 
or  anything  else  you  like."  Mary's  head  sank  quietly 
on  her  father's  shoulder,  while  he  held  his  hand  over 
his  eyes  to  hide  the  tears  that  were  trickling  down  hi* 
withered  cheeks.  Mrs.  Stokes  felt  a  sort  of  choking 
in  the  throat,  and  rose  to  open  the  wine  she  had  brought 
for  Mary,  and  pouring  out  a  glass,  she  took  it  over  to 
her,  and  begged  her  to  drink  it.  Mary  looked  up  for  a 
moment,  and,  shaking  her  head,  said,  "  No,  no,  it's 
blood-red,  give  it  to  Madge." 

"  Who  wants  Madge  V  said  the  latter,  entering  with 
the  supper  things,  followed  by  Datchet  bearing  a  large 
tureen  full  of  stewed  game,  the  gift  of  Richard  lirindal, 
of  which  his  sister  had  before  made  mention. 

"  Why,  we  all  want  you,"  said  Lee,  assuming  a  cheer- 
ful tone,  to  try  and  divert  Mary's  attention,  and  turn 
the  current  of  lier  thoughts,  "  we  all  want  you,  if  you 
bring  us  anything  to  eat ;  for  I  don't  know  how  the 
captain  there  feels,  but  I  begin  to  think  that  a  seven 
hours'  fast  gives  us  an  appetite." 

"  And  I,"  cried  Datchet,  placing  the  tureen  upon  the 
table,  where  Madge  had  by  this  time  laid  the  cloth, 
"  feel  wonderfully  inclined  to  have  a  battue  among  this 
fine  preserve  of  pheasants,  which,  in  their  present 
state,  are  fit  for  a  king,  and  still  fitter  for  a  captain. 
Ladies  all,  here's  to  you,"  added  he,  seating  himself  at 
the  table,  and  filling  out  a  glass  of  Mrs.  Stokes's  wine, 
which  he  drank  off  without  waiting  to  see  what  the 
contents  of  the  bottle  might  be. 

"  Well,  now,"  cried  Mrs.  Stokes,  who  declined  eat- 
ing, but  sat  by  the  fire,  her  head  turned  towards  the  sup- 
per-table, her  legs  crossed,  her  gown  turned  up,  and  her 
right  hand  gracefully  placed,  like  a  slice  of  ham  in  a 
sandwich,  between  the  knee  of  her  right  and  the  under 
part  of  her  left  leg,  "  well,  now,  Mary,  I  shall  be  quite 
hurt  if  you  don't  take  a  glass  of  wine  too,  for  it  was  for 
you  I  brought  it ;  not  but  what  the  captain  (as  I  hope  he 
knows)  is  welcome  to  the  best  wine  in  our  house ;  no- 
body more  so ;  and  I  hope  he'll  soon  come  and  make 
good  my  words ;  but  Mary  wants  it,  poor  thing !" 

"  It's  not  the  first,  and  I  hope  it  won't  be  the  last 
time,  that  I've  drank  your  health,  Mary,"  said  Datchet, 
"  and  so  you  must  not,  for  once,  refuse  to  drink  mine." 

Vol.  L— R 


194  ciievelet;  or, 

Mary  took  the  proffered  wine,  more  to  avoid  Mrs. 
Stokes's  petting  persecutions  than  from  any  other  mo- 
tive; and  having  consented  to  eat  in  order  to  please 
her  father,  Uatchet,  whose  inebriety  seemed  to  de- 
crease as  his  appetite  increased,  began  to  talk  for  ten 
and  eat  for  six. 

"  Very  respectable  wine  that  of  yours,  Mrs.  Stokes," 
said  he,  as  he  drained  the  bottle,  pushed  away  his  plate, 
and  leaned  back  in  his  chair  to  pause  from  his  exertions ; 
"  very  respectable  ;  but  I  could  give  you  something  that 
would  astonish  you  all,  if  I  could  get  any  one  to  go  as 
far  as  the  abbey — I  mean  any  one  we  know — any  one 
that's  to  be  trusted." 

"  Lor,  captain,"  cried  Mrs.  Stokes,  with  a  shudder, 
"  I  don't  suppose  as  you'd  get  any  one  to  go  for  love  or 
money  ;  for  they  do  say  as  ghostesses  and  spirits  walk 
there,  pertickler  these  dark,  dismal  winter  nights." 

"Spirits  walk  there,  do  they  V  said  Datchet,  with  a 
wink  at  Madge;  "ha!  ha  !  ha!  bless  you,  it's  only  the 
habit  they  have  of  doinir  the  Excise,  and  they  only  walk 
to  show  that  they  are  not  run.  By-the-by,  that  reminds 
me  of  a  lot  of  tobacco  that  came  into  my  possession 
for  you.  Master  Lee ;  and  here's  some  of  it,"  said  he, 
removing  from  his  pockets,  as  he  spoke,  two  large  pack- 
ets, and  placing  them  before  Lee. 

"  This  is  very  fine  by  the  smell,"  said  Lee,  "  and  must 
have  been  brought  from  a  great  distance." 

"  Only  from  Falmouth,  sir,  only  from  Falmouth ;" 
and  Datchet  drew  another  chair,  upon  which  he  placed 
his  feet,  and  leaning  back  in  the  one  in  which  he  sat, 
relit  his  pipe  and  puffed  away  consequentially. 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  easily  to  be  had,"  replied 
Lee. 

"  Not  easy  to  be  had  ;  pu,  pu,  puff— nearly  lost  me  my 
life  getting  it." 

"  Dear  me,  that  was  no  joke." 

"  Wrong  again — pu,  pu,  puff — it  was  all  a  joke." 

"  Ah,  I  recollect  you  said  you  got  it  from  some  Amer- 
icans, and  promised  to  tell  me  the  story." 

"  Pu,  pu,  puff — so  I  will,  as  soon  as  this  pipe's 
aground  ;  here,  Madge,  my  girl,"  handing  her  a  flask  of 
brandy  out  of  his  most  prolific  pocket,  "  that  wine's  most 
confoundedly  strong ;  mix  me  a  glass  of  grog  to  take 
off  the  effects  of  it ;  not  too  much  cold  water,  though  ; 
pu,  pu,  puff— cholera  going — cold  water — pu,  pu,  puff — 
very  dangerous." 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  195 

"I  can't  a  bear  it  at  any  time,"  interposed  Mrs. 
Stokes. 

"  Well,  sir,  you  must  know,"  said  Datchet,  emptying 
the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  on  the  table,  and  returning  it 
to  his  waistcoat  pocket,  "  when  I  was  at  Marseilles  a 
short  time  ago,  I  fell  in  with  an  American  chap  who 
had  just  landed  from  a  Chinaman,  and  hearing  I  should 
soon  be  in  England,  he  asked  me  to  take  charge  of 
some  slips  and  seeds  of  the  outom-chu,  which,  you  must 
know,  is  a  Chinese  tree,  very  like  our  sycamore,  only 
the  leaves  are  between  eight  and  nine  inches  in  diame- 
ter, fastened  to  a  stalk  about  a  foot  long,  which  is  so 
tufted  and  laden  with  flowers  that  not  a  single  ray  of 
the  sun  can  squeeze  through  'em  ;  and  for  all  the  leaves 
and  blossoms  are  so  big,  the  fruit  is  so  extraordinary 
small  that  it  is  not  much  bigger  than  a  pea  ;  so  that,  al- 
together, you  see  it's  a  curiosity,  and  would  stand  alone 
but  for  the  Reform  Bill,  which  resembles  it,  inasmuch 
as  that  its  flourisliing  and  flowery  promises  have  pro- 
duced very  small  fruits.  But  to  go  back  to  the  Yankee 
chap  whom  I  left  standing  on  the  quay  at  Marseilles  he 
gives  me  a  packet  of  oulom-chu — slips  and  seeds — di- 
rected to  '  The  Honourable  Caesar  Lycurgus  Rantand- 
cant.  New- York,  care  of  Captain  Milton  Scroggins,  of 
the  Mohawk,  Lion  Hotel,  Falmouth,'  as  he  wanted  to 
cross  over  to  Civitavecchia  (I  suppose  to  ascertain 
Gasperani's  notions  of  liberty)  before  he  returned  to 
America.  The  parcel  not  being  over  large,  I  took  it ; 
and  when  I  got  to  Falmouth,  finding  the  Mohawk  was 
in  port,  and  not  to  sail  till  the  next  day,  I  thought  1 
might  as  well  go  aboard,  and  see  what  .sort  of  vessel 
she  was ;  so,  slowing  the  Honourable  Cresar  lA^curgus 
Rantandcant  away  in  my  hat,  I  pushed  oflT  for  the  Mo- 
hawk. 

"  When  I  came  alongside,  I  saw  the  captain's  gig 
laden  with  luggage,  and  a  sallow-looking  gentleman, 
with  a  very  long  nose  and  a  back  to  match,  standing  on 
the  edge  of  the  boat,  and  giving  particular  directions 
about  a  writing-desk  which  he  was  handing  up  to  the 
mate  of  the  Mohawk.  Presently  a  little  man  in  the 
boat,  with  a  black  coat,  cocked  hat,  very  dirty  shirt,  and 
a  large  diamond  pin,  who  turned  out  to  be  the  first  lieu- 
tenant of  tlie  Mohawk,  cried  out  to  the  sallow-looking 
chap,  '  I  guess  you'd  be  a  tarnation  deal  more  conve- 
nient on  shore  till  the  vessel  sails.' 


196  CHBVELEY  ;    OR, 

*'  Whether  it  was  that,  after  such  an  extra  allowance 
of  nose,  he  had  been  put  upon  short  commons  with  re- 
gard to  ears,  or  that  they  were  stowed  away  in  the 
writing-desk  the  mate  had  just  taken  on  board,  I  don't 
know,  but  Yellow-hammer  took  no  more  notice  of  the 
first  lieutenant  than  if  he  had  been  a  tailor  asking  for 
his  bill. 

"  '  I  calculate  you're  considerable  in  the  way  there,' 
repeated  the  iirst  lieutenant,  this  time  impressing  the 
observation  on  him  by  a  gentle  push,  which,  however, 
sent  poor  Mustard-face  clean  into  the  sea ;  but  all  hands 
instantly  coming  to  his  assistance,  we  soon  handed  him 
up  again,  his  head  not  even  having  time  to  get  under 
water.  As  soon  as  he  had  recovered  himself  sufficient- 
ly to  speak,  and  smoothed  down  his  face  with  a  wet 
pocket-handkerchief,  he  rose  majestically  like  a  spring- 
tide, and  looking  resolutely  at  the  first  lieutenant,  said, 
without  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face,  '  Sir,  I  shall  report 
you  to  the  admiral.' 

"  *  What  need  of  reporting  me  to  the  admiral ;  I  can 
give  ee  satisfaction,  can't  I  V 

" '  Sir,'  said  the  damp  gentleman,  '  I  am  a  clergyman.' 

" '  Well,  what  o'  that  1  we've  got  one  of  your  cloth 
on  board,  and  he  can  satisfy  ee,  can't  ee,  without  ee 
troubling  the  admiral  V 

"  To  this  the  long  gentleman  made  no  answer ;  but 
throwing  a  contemptuous  look  at  the  first  lieutenant, 
clambered  up  the  ship's  ladder,  and  I  followed  his  ex- 
ample. As  soon  as  I  had  set  my  foot  on  deck,  I  re- 
quested to  be  shown  down  into  Captain  Milton  Scrog- 
gins's  cabin,  which  was  accordingly  done.  I  had  no 
sooner  entered,  than  a  little  Yankee  cur  darted  off  the 
sofa,  and  began  barking  at  me  through  his  nose,  which 
caused  Captain  Milton  Scroggins — a  short,  thick-set, 
dark-coloured  man,  in  whose  face  the  smallpox  had 
been  playing  at  cribbage,  and  who  was  sitting  with  his 
feet  on  the  table,  reading  the  Examiner,  a  glass  of  grog 
on  one  side  of  him  and  a  spitoon  on  the  other — to  raise 
his  head  and  say,  '  What  may  your  pleasure  be  V 

"  I  placed  my  packet  of  seeds  and  slips  before  him, 
teUing  him  how  it  had  come  into  my  possession  at 
Marseilles,  with  a  request  that  I  would  deliver  it  safely. 

"  *  Oh,  much  obliged  to  ee ;  but  I'm  sure,  as  I  always 
say,  I  find  all  Europe-yans  (Europeans)  partickler  obli- 
ging and  conformable.     Sorry  I   sail  to-morrow,  but 


THE   MAN    OF    HONOUR.  197 

next  time  I  come  to  Falmouth,  hope  to  see  ee  a  board 
the  Mohawk.  Shall  spare  no  expense  to  entertain  ee ; 
perhaps  a  little  tobacco  may  be  agreeable  to  ee  ?  Got 
some  uncommon  fine  Latakai ;  cost  me  forty-five  of 
the  best  Baltimore  for  a  dozen  pounds  of  it;  be  glad  to 
give  ee  some  for  ee  trouble  in  bringing  me  the  Outom- 
chu  seeds.' 

"  I  thanked  him,  and  it  being  one  of  my  maxims  to 
take  everything  but  three  things,  which  I  never  do  if  I 
can  avoid  it — cold,  trouble,  and  advice — I  accepted  his 
offer.  Wliile  be  was  selecting  a  packet  for  me  off"  an 
adjoining  table  on  whicii  there  were  several,  down  came 
the  first  lieutenant. 

"  '  Please,  captain,  Mr.  Trcvyllian  is  come  aboard. 
I  told  him  we  didn't  sail  till  to-morrow,  but  he  says  he 
prefers  embarking  to-day.' 

" '  Well,  let  his  luggage  be  stowed  away,'  replied  the 
captain. 

"  '  Luggage  !'  repeated  the  first  lieutenant,  '  he's  tar- 
nation little  troubled  with  that.  Why  he's  brought  no- 
thing aboard  but  his  pipe,  liis  wife,  and  a  pair  of  slip- 
pers ;  or,  rather,  he's  brought  his  wife,  and  she's  brought 
his  pipe  and  slippers,  for  she's  carrying  both.' 

'"Ah,  that's  tlie  way  with  all  your  great  geniuses,' 
said  the  captain  ;  '  they're  always  a  doing  things  out  of 
the  common,  and  unlike  other  people  ;  wonderful  man, 
Mr.  Trevyllian  ;  they  say  he  bangs  I3yron  at  conjugali- 
ties and  catastrophes.     Vou  know  him,  perhaps,  sirT 

"  '  Never  heard  of  him,'  said  1. 

" '  Never  heard  of  him  !  well,  that's  queer,  too.  I 
thought  every  Knrope-yan  at  least  had  heard  of  him  j 
all  the  Europe-yan  ladies,  'specially  the  English,  are 
mad  after  him  ;  no  wonder,  he  has  had  seven  wives, 
and  tliey  say  killed — that  is,  murdered — for  there  is  a 
difference  between  killing  and  murdering — the  former 
being  a  sort  of  cowardly  anonymous  way  that  many 
men  put  an  end  to  their  wives  :  but  he  openly  and  hon- 
ourably murdered  five  of  his ;  but  I  never  believe  half 
what  I  hear.' 

" '  Nor  I  neither,'  said  I ;  '  so  I  dare  say  that  it  was 
only  two  and  a  half!  But,  even  at  that  rate,  he  must 
still  have  an  extra  wife ;  a  Sunday  and  an  every-day 
one  like.  Pray,  sir,  is  he  famous  for  nothing  else  ? 
for  that's  by  no  means  so  uncommon.' 

•' '  Yes,  he  writes  books  ;  he  wrote  a  novel  called  the 
R  8 


198  CHBVELEY  ;    OR, 

Unnatural  Son ;  which,  being  full  of  terrible  things,  was 
naturally  much  admired.'" 

"  Bless  me !  what  a  orrid  villain,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Stokes ;  "  murder  five  wives !  and  why  wasn't  he 
hanged  five  times  for  it  at  Newgate,  pray  1" 

"  Why,  my  dear,  he  was  a  gentleman  and  a  genius, 
and  they  may  do  anything ;  it  is  only  common  people 
that  are  deprived  of  murder,  with  many  other  luxuries,'* 
said  Datchet. 

"  And  more  shame  for  them  as  deprives 'em,"  exclaim- 
ed Mrs.  Stokes,  tying  on  her  bonnet  vehemently. 

"  Well,  to  go  on  with  my  story,"  continued  Datchet, 
"  while  we  were  still  talking,  who  should  come  in  but 
Mr.  Trevyllian  himself!  I  must  confess  he  was  a  won- 
derful looking  person  :  there  was  a  kind  of  patent,  self- 
acting-villain  air  about  him,  that  gave  one  the-  idea  of 
the  devil's  being  a  baby  to  him  in  wickedness,  that  was 
truly  surprising  and  uncommon ;  his  wife  (the  one  at  the 
time  being  in  waiting,  I  mean)  he  had,  it  appears,  sent  to 
bed,  and  he  had  come  to  try  and  effect  a  transfer  with 
Captain  Milton  Scroggins  for  some  cypress  wine  he 
had  lying  in  the  docks,  in  exchange  for  some  of  the  cap- 
tain's much-vaunted  tobacco. 

"  Scroggins  expressed  himself  but  too  proud  to  have 
it  in  his  power  to  oblige  so  great  a  man  ;  and  then  glan- 
cing at  a  pair  of  large,  yellow,  embroidered  Turkish  slip- 
pers that  the  new-comer  wore,  added, '  You  must  be  cruel 
easy,  sir,  I  calculate,  in  those  outlandish  shufflers ;  pity 
they're  not  in  parliament,  they'd  bring  forred  such  a  cap- 
ital motion  on  the  corn  laws.' 

"  At  this.  Captain  Milton  Scroggins  and  the  great  man 
laughed  together  for  five  minutes,  and  then  the  latter 
added, '  Yes,  and,  like  most  of  the  motions  of  that  house, 
it  would  be  all  "  leather  and  prunella." '  This  rose  Mr. 
Trevyllian  in  my  opinion,  because,  though  he  was  what 
Mr.  Liston  calls  a  bigamarian,  it  convinced  me  that  in 
other  matters  he  was  not  above  speaking  the  truth. 
This  induced  me  to  cast  an  eye  over  him,  and  seeing 
my  attention  fixed  upon  a  dagger  he  wore  in  his  belt, 
he  very  civilly  drew  it  out,  telling  me  that  it  was  pois- 
oned with  a  poison  subtile  enough  to  retain  its  deadly 
qualities  for  a  thousand  years,  and  powerful  enough  to 
depopulate  the  world,  if  the  inhabitants  were  only  inoc- 
ulated with  it ;  that  it  had  been  given  to  him  as  a  part- 
ing gift  by  a  Bedouin  chief,  to  whom  he  had  paid  a  visit  in 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  199 

the  desert  of  some  months.  I  took  the  weapon ;  to  my 
eyes  it  had  a  most  Blue-Beardish  appearance ;  in  stretch- 
ing my  hand  across  the  table  for  it,  the  two  packets  of 
tobacco  which  the  captain  had  given  me  began  to  steer 
towards  the  floor,  and  putting  out  my  hand  suddenly  to 
stop  them,  the  dagger  fell,  and  the  point  of  it  coming 
against  my  wrist,  grazed  the  skin,  but,  fortunately,  did 
not  draw  the  blood." 

"  Luckily,  indeed !"  said  Madge,  turning  very  pale, 
"for,  being  poisoned,  it  would  have  killed  you." 

"  And  had  he  been  a  ooman,  I've  no  doubt  but  it  would," 
interposed  Airs.  Stokes ;  "  but  the  wicked  monster  of  a 
thing  knew  that  it  was  neither  ooman  nor  wife,  and  hit^s 
evident  to  me  that's  what  hit  had  been  used  to." 

"  I  hope,  though,"  said  Lee,  "  you  did  not  feel  the 
worse  after  it ;  for  even  that  slight  scratch  might  have 
been  dangerous." 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  resumed  Datchet,  "I 
did  feel  an  unpleasant  burning  and  throbbing  all  up  my 
arm  for  more  than  a  week  after,  though  the  ship's  sur- 
geon soon  set  me  to  rights.  After  which  I  began  to 
think  that  I  had  had  enough  of  Captain  Milton  Scroggins, 
the  amateur  grand  Turk,  and,  above  all,  his  poisoned  dag- 
ger ;  so,  wishing  them  both  a  good  voyage,  I  took  my 
leave  and  went  on  shore ;  and  two  days  after  the  Mo- 
hawk had  sailed,  1  had  the  inexpressible  sorrow  and  sur- 
prise to  find  that,  instead  of  the  two  packets  of  tobacco 
Scroggins  had  presented  me  with,  six  had,  in  some  mys- 
terious and  unaccountable  manner,  found  their  way  into 
my  pocket ;  but,  on  reflection,  I  attributed  this  apparent 
miracle  to  the  omnipotent  agency  of  that  wonderful 
American  invention  entitled  concentrated  essence  of  the 
sublimated  spirit  of  steam,  of  which  a  person  has  only 
to  put  a  small  vial  in  his  pocket,  and  it  will  carry  him  on 
at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles  an  hour;  so  I  concluded  that  a 
little  of  this  precious  essence  must  have  been  among 
the  packets  of  Latakai  on  board  the  Mohawk,  and  so 
impelled  them  into  my  pocket,  where,  meeting  with  no 
more  of  the  sublimated  spirit,  they  remained  for  want 
of  farther  impetus !" 

"  Oh,  captain,  captain,"  said  Lee,  with  a  half  smile,  as 
he  shook  his  head,  "  it  was  too  bad  to  steal  the  poor 
man's  tobacco  after  his  kindly  giving  you  some." 

"  Steal !"'  said  Datchet,  laughing,  as  he  rose  from  liis 
chair  and  buttoned  his  coat,  "  no,  no,  massa,  as  the  nig- 


200  CHEVELEY  ;  OR, 

gers  say,  I  no  steal  him ;  Sambo  scorn  steal,  I  only  take 
him  ;  but  come,  its  time  to  be  going  ;  so  good-by,  Mas- 
ter Lee ;  I  shall  see  you  again  before  1  go,  but  I'm  off 
again  in  a  few  days." 

"  Again  !"  repeated  INIadge  with  a  sigh,  and  in  a  tone 
of  inquiry,  to  which,  however,  Datchet  paid  no  atten- 
tion ;  but  turning  to  Mrs.  Stokes,  who  had  finished  all 
her  preparations  for  departure,  even  to  putting  on  her 
pattens,  said, "  You  must  let  me  convey  you  home,  Mrs. 
Stokes,  for  you  are  much  too  young  and  too  pretty"  (ga- 
zing with  mock  admiration  on  her  fat  bloated  face,  now 
glowing  like  a  kitchen  fire)  "to  walk  by  yourself  at  this 
time  of  night,  even  through  the  quiet  village  of  Blich- 
ingly." 

•'  Lor !  captain,"  simpered  Mrs.  Stokes,  "  if  you  ain't 
jist  the  same  as  heifer  you  was." 

"  Now  that's  exactly  what  I  think  of  you,"  replied 
Datchet,  "  that  you're  just  the  same  that  you  ever  were  ; 
not  a  day  older  than  when  I  first  knew  you,  ten  years 
ago  ;  but,  though  I  am  surrounded  by  youth  and  beauty," 
continued  lie,  bowing  gallantly,  first  to  Mrs.  Stokes 
(who  was  fluttering  beneath  his  compliment  like  a  par- 
rot in  the  sun),  and  then  to  Mary  and  Madge,  "  I  must 
not  forget  my  old  friends :  how  is  Miss  MacScrew  ? 
does  she  still  live  in  Lavender-lane  ]" 

"  Yes,  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Stokes,  "  and  finds  it  as  diffi- 
cult as  ever  to  buy  pepper  and  salt,  and  such  like  rari- 
ties, with  two  hundred  thousand  pounds !  only  that  she 
never  keeps  a  shilling  by  her,  but  has  it  all  locked  up 
in  them  ere  debentures  and  tilings ;  I  declare  I'd  break 
into  the  house  myself;  but  I  hope,  as  you've  got  kw- 
oWier  goold  box  for  her,  captain — lia!  ha  !  ha  !  that  was 
the  best  day's  work  as  you  hever  did.  But  only  think, 
there's  Parson  Hoskins  after  her ;  he  as  cast  the  hold 
lady  up  at  the  Park  in  the  lawsuit  about  the  tithes,  and 
he's  laid  a  himmense  bet  with  his  cousin,  Mr.  Tymmons 
the  'torney,  who  pretends  to  the  hold  lady,  that  he  won't 
see  Hoskins  after  his  conduck  to  her,  but  he  does 
though,  on  the  sly.  Well,  he've  laid  a  himmense  bet, 
somethink  quite  tremenjus  with  him,  that  he'll  get  Miss 
MacScrew  to  marry  him ;  but  I  don't  think  as  he  Avill, 
for  all  he's  so  'cute,  for  she've  a  refused  dozens  of  sight- 
lier  men  nor  him,  'cause  she  knows  as  it's  honly  her 
money  they  wants." 
"  Well  done,  parson !"  laughed  Dachet ;  "  a  virtuous 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  201 

woman  is  a  crown  to  her  husband,  as  Solomon  says ; 
and  as  no  one  can  have  any  doubt  of  Miss  MacScrew's 
virtue — defended,  as  it  has  ever  been,  by  her  face — she 
will  be  a  great  many  crowns  to  her  husband,  if  she  can 
be  prevailed  upon  to  bestow  the  enviable  title  upon  Hos- 
kins.  And  as  for  her  heart,  I've  no  doubt,  being  per- 
fectly orthodox,  heM  be  content  with  the  tithe — ha  !  ha! 
ha !  Hang  me  if  I  don't  go  and  see  the  bride  elect  to- 
morrow. Well,  good-night  to  you  again,  my  fine  fel- 
low," added  he,  stretchuig  out  his  hand  to  Lee ;  and 
then  shaking  Mary's  more  gently,  he  turned  to  Madge 
and  Mrs.  Stokes,  offering  each  of  them  an  arm,  and  say- 
ing that  he  would  first  deposite  Mrs.  Stokes  safely  at  her 
own  house,  and  then  walk  to  the  abbey  with  Madge. 
When  the  trio  left  the  cottage,  every  trace  of  the  late 
storm  had  passed  away ;  all  around  was  "  calm  as  a 
child's  repose ;"  the  air  was  singularly  fresh  and  fra- 
grant, while  the  whole  landscape  was  flooded  with  the 
light  of  the  clear  cold  moon,  which  was  riding  high  in 
the  heavens,  shming  out  like  hope  laden  with  happy 
morrows — that  never  come ! 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  She  is  none  of  your  dainty  dames,  who  love  to  appear  in  a  va- 
riety of  suits,  every  day  new ;  as  if  a  good  gown,  like  a  stratagem  in 
war,  were  to  be  used  but  once." — Fullkr. 

"  Win  her  with  gifts,  if  she  respect  not  words; 
Dumb  jewels  often,  in  their  silent  kind, 
More  than  quick  words,  do  move  a  woman's  mind." 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

"  I  have  a  penny  to  spend, 
I'm  beholden  to  nobody, 
I'll  neither  borrow  nor  lend." 

Burns. 

Dear  reader,  if  it  be  not  giving  you  too  much  trouble 
to  rise  at  eight  in  the  morning,  pray  walk  with  me  as 
far  as  Lavender-lane,  and  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to 
Miss  MacScrew.  Did  the  dirt  and  deficiencies  of  her 
mfenage  arise  from  poverty,  I  should  fear  to  disgust  your 
too  delicate  seusibiUty ;  but  as  they  only  arise  from  the 


202  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

little  amiable  eccentricities  of  a  millionaire,  they  may 
create  a  smile.  Miss  Laviiiia  MacScrew  was  of  Irish 
extraction,  and  of  a  tolerable  family;  the  only  survi- 
ving branches  of  which  (beside  herself)  consisted  of  a 
mother,  who,  had  she  been  poor,  would  have  been  called 
mad;  but,  being  rich,  was  only  thought  odd  :  and  three 
brothers,  a  rich  elder  one,  who  had  married  an  heiress ; 
and  two  younger  ones,  possessed  of  no  more  of  this 
world's  dross  than  a  half-pay  company  and  majority  in 
two  marching  regiments  supplied.  In  her  secret  soul, 
Miss  Lavinia  MacScrew  had  decided  upon  making  her 
rich  elder  brother  her  heir  and  residuary  legatee  ;  but 
with  a  sisterly  affection,  which  the  dowager  Lady  de 
Clifford  would  have  said  "  did  great  credit  to  her  head 
and  hort,''''  she  had  apportioned  ten  pounds  to  each  of 
her  younger  ones  to  buy  mourning  rings.  The  fair  La- 
vinia's  penetration  was  as  keen  as  her  appetite.  Well 
did  she  analyze  the  motives  for  which  she  was  courted 
by  all ;  and  doubly  did  she  enjoy  the  dinners  she  ate  at 
her  neighbour's  expense,  from  the  reflection  that  she 
should  not  even  pay  legacy  duty  for  them  !  In  the  for- 
mation of  her  person;  nature  had  been  as  economical 
as  she  herself  was  in  its  decoration.  She  was  short 
and  exceedingly  thin,  with  feet  and  hands  that  might 
have  belonged  to  a  giantess.  Her  eyes  were  black, 
small,  round,  and  restless ;  her  nose  long  and  spiky ; 
her  mouth  wide,  but  well  filled  with  long  yellow  teeth  ; 
her  voice  was  short  and  sharp,  as  if  it  were  eternally 
straining  to  keep  in  a  well-nuizzled  brogue.  Words 
were  the  only  things  she  was  extravagant  in,  as  she  gen- 
erally repeated  her  last  sentence  twice  over,  shuffling 
about  all  the  time  on  the  edge  of  her  seat,  and  suddenly 
hopping  from  one  chair  to  another  as  a  bird  does  from 
twig  to  twig.  Her  dress  baffles  description,  unless, 
reader,  thou  canst,  by  a  stretch  of  imagination,  fancy  a 
very  lanky  and  ill-filled  ragbag,  suddenly  endowed  with 
locomotive  powers,  lilting  a  sprightly  measure  to  the 
tune  of  "  The  Light  of  other  Days." 

In  the  house  or  out  of  the  house,  her  morning  head- 
gear, summer  and  winter,  was  an  old  Leghorn  bonnet, 
with  a  very  large,  high  flat  crown,  resembhng  a  souffle- 
dish,  the  leaf  exceedingly  small  in  proportion,  though 
enlarged  by  a  binding  of  broad  green  thrice-washed 
sarcenet  riband,  Avith  strings  to  correspond,  and  three 
large  black  holyoaks,  composed  of  feathers,  bobbing  iu 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  203 

the  front,  like  young  hearse-pliimes.  But  as  she  gen- 
erally contrived  to  dine  out  every  day,  she  always  (what 
she  called)  dressed  for  dinner,  that  is,  put  on  a  pink  or 
yellow  leno  dress,  while  a  silk  pocket-handkerchief, 
twisted  tight  round  her  head,  officiated  as  a  turban,  with- 
out interfering  with  two  large  and  very  dusty  bundles  of 
short  black  false  ringlets,  that  appeared  to  be  playing 
at  hide  and  seek  all  over  her  foreiicad  ;  and  wliich,  with 
a  string  of  blue,  yellow,  or  green  glass  beads  tight  round 
her  throat,  and  a  pair  of  brown  cotton  Berlin  gloves,  and 
nankeen  shoes,  with  a  raiubow  scarf  of  coloured  worst- 
eds in  cold  weather,  completed  her  evening  toilet ;  unless 
on  very  grand  occasions  indeed,  such  as  an  assize  ball, 
or  the  christening  of  one  of  Mrs.  Tymnions"s  children, 
and  then  the  black  feathc^r  holyoaks  were  transplanted 
from  the  Leghorn  boiuiet  to  the  pocket-handkerchief-tur- 
ban, so  tliat  tiiey  were  about  as  well  known  through  the 
country  as  the  tax-gatherer;  for  Miss  MacSerew  made  a 
point  of  attending  every  sort  of  reunion  where  anything 
in  the  shape  of  eating  and  drinking  was  to  be  had,  from 
the  harmless  tea  and  attenuated  bread  and  butter  of  the 
county  balls,  to  the  strong  geese  and  strong  ale  of  a 
harvest  home.  The  expense  of  carriage-hire  would, 
indeed,  hAvc  been  an  insurmountable  barrier  to  these 
amusements,  had  not  every  one  in  tlic  neigiibourhood 
always  been  ready  to  take  "  dear  Miss  MacJScrew  any- 
where;" and  the  Tymmonses  kept  a  fly  (a  green  one), 
and  the  Moggses  kept  a  fly  (a  yellow  one),  and  the 
Simmonses  kept  a  carriage  (a  Waterloo-blue  one,  picked 
out  with  red),  and  llie  Bnmpasses  kept  a  coach,  and  not 
one  of  these  amiable  families  but  had  an  Emma,  or  a 
Charlotte,  or  a  Georgy  ever  ready  to  stay  at  home  so 
as  to  make  room  for  dear  Miss  MacSerew,  or  a  Tom, 
or  a  Bob,  or  a  Dick  equally  ready  to  go  on  the  box  or 
walk,  even  on  such  nights  as  none  save  the  witches 
in  ]\Iacbeth  would  care  to  encouiner. 

The  worst  of  it  was,  that,  although  the  Simmonses' 
carriage  was  by  far  the  most  comfortable,  yet  the  Sim- 
monses and  the  Tymmonses  were  at  daggers-drawn, 
being  rivals  in  everything  except  equipages,  where,  of 
course,  the  carriage  drove  the  fly  out  of  the  field.  The 
eldest  Miss  Tymmons  had  red  hair,  but  then  she  played 
all  Strauss's  waltzes  and  gallopes  better  than  Strauss 
himself  (at  least  so  her  mother  said).  Well,  what  of 
that!    Miss  Simnwns  had  an  equivalent  cast  in  her 


204  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

very  verdant  eyes,  and  rivalled  Herz,  Doehler,  and 
Thalberg  combined  as  a  pianiste  ;  here,  then,  was  equal- 
ity again.  Bat  then,  Mr.  Rush  Tyminons  wrote  poetry, 
went  without  a  neckcloth,  wore  his  shirt-collar  hori- 
zontally, looked  as  if  he  committed  great  excesses  in 
toast  and  water,  and,  in  short,  was  the  Byron  of  Blich- 
ingly.  Then,  again,  Mr.  Sam  Simmons  had  written 
such  an  article  in  the  Ladies'  Magazine  upon  tight  lacing, 
pathology,  and  green  tea,  that  he  was  considered  to 
beat  him  hollow  in  science  and  profundity.  Mr.  Tym- 
mons,  senior,  was  awfully  vulgar ;  ditto,  Mr.  Simmons, 
senior,  and  Mrs.  S.  was  unconcealably  ashamed  of  him ; 
ditto  Mrs.  T.  of  Mr.  T.  But  the  younger  branches  of 
the  family  were  so  very  "  genteel .'"  that  there  was  no- 
thing like  them,  except  it  might  be  the  younger  branches 
of  the  Simmonses,  and  they  would  rather  have  been  hke 
nothing  than  like  the  Tymmonses.  Next  clashed  their 
love  of  aristocratic  acquaintances,  which  was  not  only 
their  glory  in  particular,  but  like  glory  in  general,  inas- 
much as  that  it  was 

"  Like  a  circle  in  the  water, 
Which  never  ceaseth  to  enlarge  itself 
Till,  by  broad  spreading,  it  disperse  to  naught." 

Mr.  Tymmons  being  a  radical,  Lord  de  Clifford  and 
his  mother  used  to  honour  him  with  their  company  at 
dinner  once  during  every  election,  on  which  memorable 
occasions  a  man  cook,  waiters,  lamps,  and  Champagne 
glasses  were  always  hired  from  Triverton.  While,  on 
the  other  hand,  Mr.  Simmons,  being  a  Tory,  was,  with 
his  wife  and  seven  daughters,  during  these  elective  pe- 
riods of  national  independence  and  discrimination,  al- 
ways invited  by  Lady  Sudbury  to  her  tableaux  at  Camp- 
field,  the  last  of  which  had  been  from  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field, representing  neighbour  Flamborough's  family  pic- 
ture, wherein  the  seven  Miss  Simmonses  represented 
the  seven  Miss  Flamboroughs,  with  seven  oranges  in 
their  hands,  and  produced  such  a  sensation,  that  two 
duchesses,  three  marchionesses,  four  countesses,  one 
royal  duke,  eight  Lord  Johns  and  Lord  Williams,  and 
four-and-twenty  bran-new  baronets,  laughed  themselves 
into  hysterics.  This  was  not  to  be  borne ;  and,  accord- 
ingly, Mr.  Rush  Tymmons,  after  sitting  up  all  night  and 
quaffing  two  draughts  of  Moxon's  effervescing  magnesia, 
produced  the  following  (what  he  called)  smashing  epi- 


THE   MAN  OP  HONOtJR.  205 

gram,  and  inserted  it  anonymously  in  the  "  Triverton 
Independent,"  headed  by  the  following  little  affiche : 

"on  the  late  buffoonery  at  campfield. 

"  Oh,  what  must  the  Tories,  Miss  Simmonses,  feel, 
To  see  you  so  roughly  can  handle  their  Peel? 
Every  hope  of  success  from  their  faction  must  fade, 
When  all  they  can  get  is  such  poor  Orange  aid!" 

This  brilliant  and  razor-like  piece  of  satire  was  reward- 
ed by  Mr.  Rush's  paternal  perpetrator  with  a  bl.  note ! 
and  by  his  justly  proud  mother  with  a  very  elegant 
double-gilt  chain;  but  the  injured  Simmonses,  the  vic- 
tims of  this  Cassius-like  attack,  which  had  made  such 
a  noise  in  the  printing-office  of  the  Triverton  Independ- 
ent and  in  their  own  breakfast-room,  never  dreamed, 
never  suspected,  never  imagined,  for  a  moment,  the 
hated  quarter  from  wlience  it  had  emanated;  for  they 
met  the  Tymmonses  as  usual,  at  church  or  elsewhere, 
with  the  same  zero  bows  and  courtesies  as  ever;  and 
the  Waterloo-blue  coach  never  passed  the  green  fly  with- 
out their  respective  occupants  smiling  prussic  acid  at 
each  other. 

Now  Miss  MacScrew  was  too  much  a  woman  of  the 
world  ever  to  care  more  for  one  person  than  anollier,  let 
her  have  received  what  kindness  she  might  from  them, 
socially  or  politically ;  she  had  no  idea  of  the  corrupt 
system  of  assisting  anybody.  "  Sibi  quemquc  caiere 
oporlel"  was  her  motto.  Nevertheless,  with  all  this 
world  of  impartiality  to  range  through,  which  her  El 
Dorado  in  the  Three  per  Cents,  enabled  her  to  do  with- 
out offending  any  one,  yet  she  was  sometimes  puzzled 
when  circumstances  compelled  her  to  exert  her  conge 
d'elire ;  for  if  the  Simmonses  took  her  twice  running  to 
some  tea-party  where  the  Tymmonses  were  not  going, 
she  invariably  found  that  she  had  a  dinner  the  less  that 
week  at  the  Tymmonses,  or  vice  versa;  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was  more  in  the  long  run  to  be  got  out 
of  the  Simmonses,  for  they  remained  at  Blichingly  all  the 
year  round,  whereas  the  Tymmonses  regularly  went 
every  year  six  weeks  to  Margate,  and  empty  houses  give 
no  dinners  ;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  their  cousin,  the  Rever- 
end Nathaniel  Peter  Hoskins,  sent  her  regular  supplies 
of  poultry,  game,  fish,  and  vegetables,  and,  consequent- 
ly, they  were  not  to  be  offended,  though,  as  she  observ- 
ed in  confidence  to  Mrs.  Simmons,  such  presents  were 

Vol.  I.— S 


206  cheveley;  or, 

very  expensive,  as  they  entailed  upon  one  the  necessity 
of  a  fire  to  dress  them  ;  for  wliicli  reason,  as  soon  as  she 
received  them,  she  generally  sent  them  down  to  Mrs. 
Simmons,  with  "  her  compliments,  and  that,  if  they  di- 
ned at  home,  she  would  herself  look  in  at  five  o'clock  !" 
which  was  always  answered  with  "  they  should  be  de- 
lighted to  see  Miss  MacScrew  at  five  precisely,  or  at 
one  to  luncheon,  if  she  was  not  better  engaged."  Now 
the  Reverend  Nathaniel  Peter  Hoskins  thought,  by  a 
parity  of  reasoning,  that  as  Miss  MacScrew  never  re- 
jected his  presents,  she  could  not  possibly  reject  him- 
self ;  but  his  conclusions  were  drawn  from  false  premi- 
ses; for  she  not  only  refused  him,  but,  upon  his  propo- 
sing for  her  a  third  time,  forbade  him  her  house,  or 
even  to  make  his  appearance  in  Lavender-lane ;  to 
which  he  replied,  with  chivalric  gallantry,  that  his  heart 
should  be  laid  up  in  lavender  for  her  till  her  cruelty 
relented  sufficiently  to  accept  it.  How  could  she  re- 
fuse him,  "  for,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  she  ne'er  would 
look  upon  his  like  again!"  His  face  was  a  dark  copper 
colour,  very  long  and  very  square  ;  his  hair  grizzled, 
short,  and  rampant,  like  a  scrubbing-brush  that  "  had 
done  its  duty,  and  had  done  no  more ;"  his  eyes  were 
coflTee-coloured  and  dancing,  with  butter-cup  whites  to 
them ;  his  nose  was  short,  straight,  and  very  thick ;  his 
upper  lip  very  long,  and  his  under  one  fashioned  after 
the  model  of  a  pap-boat ;  his  teeth  long,  yellow,  and  so 
projecting,  that  his  lips  had  a  sinecure,  for  they  could 
never  meet  to  transact  business,  which  gave  his  face 
the  appearance  of  an  eternal  grin,  even  when  preaching 
and  discussing  the  most  serious  subjects ;  his  figure  Avas 
colossal,  and  very  high  shouldered,  and  his  limbs  were 
so  loosely  and  jerkily  hung,  that  he  gave  one  the  idea  of 
being  composed  of  stray  legs  and  arms  :  the  evolution  of 
bowing  he  always  performed  by  butting  his  head  forward 
like  a  ram,  while  his  body  writhed,  wriggled,  and  lash- 
ed about  hke  an  eel.  Such  was  the  man  that  Miss 
MacScrew  had  had  the  self-denial  to  refuse  ;  but  peace, 
alas !  is  not  even  for  the  prudent,  nor  ease  for  the  eco- 
nomical !  another  attack  upon  her  purse  had  been  re- 
cently made  by  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone  through  the  me- 
dium of  Mr.  Tymmons,  to  try  and  borrow  two  thou- 
sand pounds  at  any  per  centage,  and  with  every  securi- 
ty, from  her,  as  it  would  not  do  to  borrow  it  from  his 
mother,  whom  he  assured  he  was  brought  in  free  ;  and 
without  it  he  could  not,  at  the  next  election,  stand. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  207 

Now,  though  Miss  MacScrew  professed  great  reluc- 
tance to  lend  money  on  any  terms,  yet,  from  the  ampli- 
tude of  the  security  Mr.  Tymmons  advanced  on  the 
part  of  Lord  de  Clifford,  she  was  on  llie  point  of  acce- 
ding, when  an  urgent  letter  from  Major  Nonplus,  writ- 
ten in  the  plenitude  of  his  friendly  zeal  to  back  his  friend 
Herbert's  request,  contained  such  a  dismal  and  forcible 
statement  of  that  gentleman's  ruined  fortunes  and  base- 
less prospects,  as  at  once  deterred  Miss  MacScrew  from 
stirring  another  step  in  the  business,  beyond  going  back 
every  step  she  had  previously  advanced.  It  was  this 
unexpected  and  appalling  contretemps  that  had  induced 
Mr.  Herbert  Grim.stone  to  write  to  Marseilles,  and  de- 
spatch Captain  Datchet  (whom  he  had  long  known  in 
his  diplomatic  capacity  to  be  an  excellent  secret  agent) 
to  Blichingly,  to  lead  the  forlorn  hope  of  another  attack 
upon  Miss  MacScrew's  purse.  Accordingly,  the  morn- 
ing after  his  arrival  at  Lee's  cottage  saw  Captain  Datch- 
et, at  eight  o'clock,  on  his  way  to  Lavender-lane  ;  not  in 
his  rough  sailor's  costume  of  the  evening  before,  but  in  a 
handsome  surtout,  lined  with  fur,  French-polished  boots, 
unexceptionable  liat  and  gloves,  and  his  hair  flowing 
gracefully,  according  to  the  present  fashion,  over  his  ears. 

Miss  MacScrew's  mansion  in  Lavender-lane  was  a 
yellow  brick,  two-windowed,  three-storied  house,  the 
parlour  windows  of  which  were  defended  from  the  in- 
trusive gaze  of  street  passengers  by  deep  yellow  lent) 
blinds,  drawn  upon  white  tape,  and  fastened  with  tin 
tacks  to  each  side  of  the  window-frame.  Being  the 
first  house  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  lane,  it  had  only 
a  right-hand  neighbour,  which  consisted  of  a  small  min- 
eral and  vegetable  emporium,  alias  a  coal-shed,  where 
potatoes,  turnips,  carrots,  oysters,  and  red-herrings  were 
also  sold ;  next  to  this  was  a  small  public  house,  the 
Magpie  and  Spoon ;  next  to  this  again  was  a  still  small- 
er house,  with  a  slate-coloured  board  between  the  first 
floor  windows,  in  which  large  yellow  letters  proclaimed 
that  within  was  "  Miss  Grubb's  Seminary  for  Young 
Ladies."  One  more  house  was  next  to  this,  with  a 
worsted  stocking  thrust  through  a  broken  pane  of  one 
of  the  windows  on  the  ground-floor,  while  the  model 
of  a  man-of-war  for  sale  graced  the  other ;  and  two  an- 
nouncements over  the  door,  of  "  Mangling  done  here," 
and  "  Matthew  Square  teches  reeding,  riting,  and  reth- 
metic  above,"  completed  the  row  on  this  side  of  the 


208  CHKVELEY  ;    OR, 

street,  while  those  on  the  opposite  side  were  still  un- 
finished, except  one  small  one,  whose  lower  windows 
were  gracefully  festooned  with  sausages,  and  the  pro- 
files of  several  pigs,  with  the  torsos  of  others ;  the  cor- 
ner house,  next  to  the  "  Swinish  Multitude,"  presented 
a  few  old  vials,  and  an  assurance  that  the  highest  price 
was  there  given  for  rags  of  every  description,  and  which 
was  most  likely  Miss  MacScrew's  inducement  for  fix- 
ing her  abode  immediately  opposite.  The  clock  of  a 
neighbouring  church  was  striking  eight  as  Miles  Datchet 
tugged  at  the  stiff  black  knocker  of  Miss  MacScrew's 
door,  till  he  achieved  something  like  a  postman's  knock 
with  a  postscript  to  it,  being  three  distinct  thumps,  at  a 
respectful  distance  from  each  other.  No  sooner  had 
the  last  sounded,  than  a  Leghorn  bonnet  and  three  black 
holyoaks  was  seen  peering  over  the  yellow  blind  of  the 
far  window,  to  ascertain  who  the  intruder  could  possi- 
bly be ;  while  Sally,  the  red-headed  maid,  who  could, 
through  the  legitimate  channel  of  opening  the  door, 
have  satisfied  her  curiosity  at  once,  preferred  the  cir- 
cuitous one  of  going  into  the  area  and  gazing  upward, 
to  the  great  risk  of  a  very  dirty  nightcap  taking  its  de- 
parture in  the  northeast  wind  to  the  opposite  ragshop. 
Even  the  lady  of  the  coal-shed  kept  a  dustman  full  two 
minutes  longer  than  she  need  have  done,  opening  some 
oysters  that  she  had  selected  for  his  morning's  repast, 
while  she  took  a  "  lingering  look"  at  Miss  MacScrew's 
smart  visiter.  One  of  the  windows  of  Miss  Grubb's 
"  Seminary"  was  also  thrown  up,  and  three  heads  pre- 
cipitately appeared,  one  bob-major  with  a  high-backed 
comb  and  long  ringlets,  which  was  the  head  of  the 
school.  Miss  Grubb  lierself ;  the  other  two  were  small 
editions  of  Monk  Lewis's  Tails  of  Wonder,  for  their 
length  was  really  surprising:  these  were  two  of  the 
"  young  ladies."  In  short,  the  whole  street  was  thrown 
into  commotion  by  such  a  visiter  at  such  an  hour,  and 
not  a  countenance  but  expressed  the  most  intense  cu- 
riosity and  wonder,  except  those  of  the  pigs  in  the  op- 
posite window.  Sally  at  length  shufHed  up  stairs,  and 
opened  the  door  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other 
she  gathered  her  clothes  about  her,  lest,  like  the  leaves 
in  autumn,  they  should  fall  off.  Miss  MacScrew  never 
kept  a  handmaiden  more  than  two  or  three  weeks,  for 
she  gave  them  four  shillings  a  week  to  find  themselves  ; 
consequently,  as  she  observed,  they  got  too  much  men- 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  209 

ey,  and  too  little  to  do,  which  spoiled  them,  and  com- 
pelled her  frequently  to  part  with  them,  therefore  Cap- 
tain Datchet  did  not  know  Sally,  and  Sally  did  not  know 
him. 

"  Pray,  my  pretty  girl,"  said  he,  when  he  had  crossed 
the  threshold,  "  is  Miss  MacScrew  at  home  V 

"  Yes,  she  is  at  home,"  said  the  girl,  deliberately  ey- 
ing him  from  head  to  foot;  "but  I  don't  know  whether 
I  was  to  say  so,  though;  but  wait  here,  and  I'll  go  and 
see."  So  saying,  Sally  opened  the  parlour  door  on  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  passage,  and  slamming  it  after 
her,  left  Datchet  free  to  reconnoitre  the  luxuries  around 
him. 

There  Avas  neither  oilcloth  on  the  hall  nor  carpets  on 
the  stairs ;  and  the  boards,  which  were  very  dirty,  had 
a  fine  gravelly  feci  beneath  the  feet;  the  staircase  win- 
dow was  open,  a  llower-pot  was  outside  it,  with  a 
withered  shrub  in  it,  covered  with  soot,  that  looked  hke 
a  birch-rod  m  mourning  ;  apiece  of  whipcord  ran  across 
the  window,  from  which  were  suspended  two  cotton 
pockcl-handkercliiefs,  and  three  pairs  of  cotton  stockings 
of  Miss  MacScrew's,  bearing  very  bilious  symptoms  of 
the  lavatorial  skill  of  Sally.  The  house  itself  had  a  fine 
zoological  smell  of  live  mice.  Miss  MacScrew  did  not 
keep  a  cat,  "  they  were  such  horrid  thieves  !"  And  to' 
judge  from  the  shoals  of  dead  wasps  and  flies  in  the 
window-seat,  and  the  rich  draperies  of  cobwebs  that 
hung  from  the  walls,  it  might  be  presumed  that  Miss 
MacScrew  was  much  addicted  to  the  interesting  study 
of  entomology;  at  least  Captain  Datchet  had  just 
come  to  this  conclusion,  when  the  parlour-door  opened, 
and  Sally,  stepping  out,  said,  "Your  name,  please  V 

But  being  followed  by  Miss  MacScrew,  who  kept 
peering  through  the  aperture  of  the  door  which  Sally 
held  ajar,  and  wlio  at  that  moment  recognised  him, 
saved  him  the  trouble  of  answering  by  popping  for- 
ward and  saying,  "  Bless  me.  Captain  Datchet,  is  that 
you !  thought  you  were  abroad,  thought  you  were 
abroad.  Come  in,  won't  you  1  going  to  breakfast,  go- 
ing to  breakfast.  You've  breakfasted,  of  course.  Not 
proper  to  ask  a  gentleman  to  breakfast  tete-a-tete,  you 
)/i\\ovf,  tke-a-tete;  ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Datchet  took  the  hint  from  the  emphasis  on  the  of 
course,  and  said  he  had  breakfasted  ;  and,  even  had  he 
not,  there  was  no  temptation  for  him  to  do  so  here.  In 
S2 


210  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

a  very  small,  narrow,  rusty  iron  grate,  in  which  there 
was  a  little,  low,  consumptive  fire,  that  looked  like  a 
young  lady  of  eighteen,  in  as  much  as  it  was  just  be- 
ginning to  go  out,  was  a  small  tin  shaving-pot  with  hot 
water,  and  which  had  actually  the  conceit  to  attempt 
the  part  of  a  kettle.  On  a  small  table  near  the  fire- 
place was  spread  an  equally  arrogant  newspaper,  that 
emulated  a  tablecloth !  On  this  was  placed  a  cracked 
blue  teacup  and  saucer,  a  pewter  spoon,  a  small  black 
teapot,  some  brown  sugar  on  a  small  plate,  a  little  milk 
in  a  pomatum-pot,  and  a  little  tea  in  a  broken  tumbler: 
this,  with  the  very  stale-looking  half  of  a  penny  roll, 
and  a  very  small  piece  of  salt  butter,  completed  the  bill 
of  fare  of  Miss  MacScrew's  breakfast. 

"  You'll  excuse  my  beginning  my  breakfast,  I'm 
sure,"  said  she,  "  and  we  can  talk  all  the  same." 

"  Oh  certainly,"  replied  Datchet ;  "  I  have  only  a  few 
presents  from  a  young  gentleman  to  give  you,  which 
will  keep  till  after  breakfast." 

"  Presents  to  give  me  !  and  from  a  young  gentlemau  I 
How  very  odd,  very  odd ;  he  !  he  !  he  !"  and  Miss  Mac- 
Screw's  eyes  danced  and  twinkled  like  stars,  with  the 
light  left  out.  She  held  the  one  spoonful  of  tea  she  al- 
ways indulged  in  suspended  over  the  teapot,  like  the 
sword  of  Damocles  ;  and  lucky  was  it  that  she  did  so, 
for  by  that  means  there  was  "  one  halfpennyworth"  of 
tea  saved  to  her  and  her  heirs  for  ever  ;  for,  before  she 
had  time  to  ingulf  it  in  the  teapot,  the  door  opened,  and 
Sally  entered,  her  apron  thrown  over  her  left  hand,  and 
so  protecting  her  finger  and  thumb,  which  secured  a 
three-cornered  note,  while  her  right  hand  rested  grace- 
fully on  her  right  hip. 

"  Please,  ma'am,  liere's  a  note  from  Mrs.  Tymmons, 
and  the  footboy  waits  an  answer." 

Miss  MacScrew  replaced  the  tea  in  the  cracked  tum- 
bler, while  she  opened  and  read  the  note,  which  ran  as 
follows  : 

"  Dear  Miss  MacScrew, 
"  If  you  are  not  better  engaged,  will  you  dine  and 
spend  the  day  with  us  1  that  is,  come  to  luncheon  at  one. 
"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"  S.  Tymmons." 

"  My  compliments,  and  I  shall  be  most  happy,  most 
happy ;  and  here,  Sally,  you  may  put  these  things  back 


THE  MAN  OP  HONOUR.  211 

in  the  closet ;  for  lunching  at  one,  it  is  impossible  to  eat 
any  breakfast,  and  the  Tymmonses  would  be  offended 
if  I  did  not  eat,  and  I  would  not  offend  them  for  the 
world,  piiir  people,  puir  people." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  Datchet,  for  there  wa3 
not  that  thing  which  Aliss  MacScrew  could  have  assert- 
'ed,  which,  at  the  time  being,  he  would  not  have  agreed 
in  ;  "  and  breakfasting  at  eight,  it  would  be  quite  im- 
possible to  eat  at  one." 

"  Now,  I'm  quite  at  leisure  to  attend  to  you  ;  quite  at 
leisure  to  attend  to  you,"  said  Miss  MacScrew,  remo- 
ving herself  from  three  different  chairs  during  the  deliv- 
ery of  this  short  speech. 

"  I  shall  not  detain  you  long,"  said  Datchet,  taking  a 
small  parcel  out  of  his  sidepocket ;  "  merely  a  few  little 
keepsakes  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone  begged  of  me  to  give 
you,  in  case  I  should  happen  to  pass  through  IJliching- 
ly ;  and  as  I  had  a  little  business  that  made  a  four-and- 
twenty  hours'  visit  necessary,  I  would  not  go  without 
coming  to  see  you."  So  saying,  he  handed  her  the  par- 
cel, vvhich  she  opened  eagerly,  and  which  contained  the 
costly  offerings  of  a  very  shabby  black  iron  Berlin 
bracelet,  a  little  three-cornered  fichu  of  Venetian  bead- 
work,  a  shell  necklace,  and  a  Turkish  tobacco-bag  for  a 
reticule,  but  which,  as  its  perfume  told,  had  already 
done  duty  in  its  original  capacity.  If,  however,  the 
chief  merit  of  a  present  consists  in  its  being  adapted 
to  the  taste  or  wants  of  the  person  to  whom  it  is  given, 
then  was  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone's  cadaux  most  appro- 
priate, as  they  consisted  in  that  species  of  trumpery  in 
which  Miss  MacScrew  most  delighted,  especially  com- 
ing, as  it  did,  from  abroad ;  fot  having  once  in  lier  young- 
er days  passed  three  months  at  Naples  with  an  old  aunt 
(who  had  since  left  her  the  chief  part  of  her  present 
wealth),  she  always  talked  verlii,  and  affected  the  great- 
est admiration  for  anything  foreign;  and,  as  may  have 
been  seen  by  the  description  of  the  house,  had,  with 
that  perfect  imitation  which  talent  combined  with  good 
taste  always  ensures,  achieved  as  dirty  a  domicile  as 
any  of  the  multitudinous  dens  in  the  purlieus  of  the  Chi- 
atamone.  Miss  MacScrew's  eyes  danced  and  sparkled 
as  she  examined  the  different  pieces  of  trumpery  be- 
fore her,  especially  the  roses  and  convolvuluses  in  the 
bead  handkerchief. 

"  That  is  Venetian,"  said  Datchet,  by  way  of  enhan- 
cing its  value. 


212  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Ah !  very  pretty,  very  pretty  indeed,"  rejoined  Miss 
MacScrew,  seizing  and  examining  the  Berhn  kitchen- 
range-looking  bracelet,  with  that  Rlilesian  inverse  jum- 
ble of  ideas  common  to  all  who  have  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  have  sprung  from  the 

"  First  flower  of  the  earth,  and  first  jim  of  the  say."  l 

"  So  plain  and  elegant !  You  don't  read,  Captain 
Datchet,  poetry  and  romances,  and  that  sort  of  thing, 
so  you  don't  know  what  I  mean ;  but  you  may  tell  Mr, 
Grimstone  that  1  shall  call  it  my  '  Venetian  bracelet' — 
he  !  he  !  he  !  L.  E.  L.'s  Miss  Landon's,  poor  Miss  Lan- 
don's  L.  E.  L.'s  Venetian  bracelet,  you  know,  or,  rather, 
you  don't  know,  but  he'll  know.  All  my  young  friends 
are  very  kind  in  lending  me  books  ;  lending,  you  know, 
lending — " 

"  That  bracelet  is  not  Venetian  though,"  interposed 
Datchet,  anxious  to  prove  that  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone 
had  not  confined  himself  to  one  solitary  country  in  pro- 
curing testinaonies  of  his  reminiscences  of  Miss  Mac- 
Screw;  only  the  necklace  and  the  handkerchief  are 
Venetian,  the  bracelet  is  Berlin." 

"  Oh  yes,  Berlin,"  echoed  Miss  MacScrew,  now  in- 
tently examining  the  necklace.  "Berlin,  yes;  those 
are  charming  carriages,  charming  carriages,  those  Ber- 
lins they  have  abroad.  But  really,"  continued  she, 
pushing  all  her  treasures  to  a  little  distance  from  her, 
and  towards  Datchet,  on  the  table  that  was  between 
them,  "  1  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  take  these  things; 
the  puir  young  man  is  not  perhaps  aware  that  I  refused 
to  lend  him  the  money ;  but  I  make  a  rule  (in  the  way 
of  money)  neither  to  borrow  nor  lend,  neither  to  bor- 
row nor  lend — he  !  he !  he :  don't  you  think  I'm 
right  r' 

"  Decidedly,"  said  Datchet,  reverentially ;  "  and  as 
you  never  borrow  money,  I  don't  see  how  people  can 
be  so  unreasonable  as  to  expect  you  to  lend  it.  But 
what  do  you  allude  to,  may  I  ask  ?"  continued  he,  with 
a  look  tessellated  with  ignorance  and  innocence. 

"  Why,  two  thousand  pounds,  two  thousand  pounds, 
that  Mr.  Grimstone  wanted  to  borrow  from  me." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  Datchet,  starting  back  theatri- 
cally in  his  chair ;  "  may  I  ask  how  long  ago  that  was  V* 

"  Oh,  about  three  months  ago,  three  months  ago." 

"  Then  he  certainly  knew  all  about  it,  for  it  is  not 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  213 

one  month  ago  since  he  gave  me  those  things  for  you, 
with  so  many  kind  messages.  So  you  see  your  refusal 
has  not  altered  his  feeHngs  towards  you." 

"P«!r  young  man  I  puir  young  man!"  blinked  Miss 
MacScrew;  "  why  really,  though  I  make  a  point  of 
never  lending  money,  I  might  have  lent  it  to  him ;  but, 
%ut  ruined  as  he  is,  and  1  with  so  many  brotliers  de- 
pending on  me,  depending  on  me,  it  would  be  madness, 
madness." 

"  Ruined !"  exclaimed  Datchet,  with  well-feigned  as- 
tonishment, "  there,  my  dear  ma'am,  you  most  as- 
suredly mistake  ;  a  rising  young  man  like  him,  with  high 
official  appointments,  the  best  government  patronage, 
and  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  heir  of  Blichingly !" 
(with  great  emphasis  on  the  last  word,  for  Miss  Mac- 
Screw  knew  the  Blichingly  rent-roll  to  a  doit)  "  with  all 
due  submission  to  your  better  judgment,  this  is  as  little 
like  a  ruined  man  as  need  be." 

"  Well,  but  I  thought  Lord  de  Clifford  was  the  heir 
of  Blichingly?"  said  Miss  MacScrew. 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,"  replied  Datchet,  "they  are  alter- 
nate heirs  ;  the  tenure  rests  chiefly  on  the  old  lady's 
caprice.  She  may,  you  know,  leave  it  to  whom  she 
pleases,  and  the  chances  fluctuate,  her  tw^o  sons  never 
being  in  favour  at  once  ;  but  I  should  say  his  lordship's 
chance  was  the  worst ;  for,  besides  having  a  very  good 
estate  of  his  own,  he  sees  too  much  of  her ;  and  having, 
like  herself,  the  devil's  own  temper — two  of  a  trade, 
you  know,  can  never  agree — and  Mr.  Herbert  is  scarcely 
ever  with  her,  and  lays  it  on  thicker  when  he  is,  which 
is  all  in  his  favour;  but  as  she  must  know,  after  bring- 
ing them  up  as  she  has  done,  for  all  the  real  love  they 
have  for  her,  if  it  was  not  for  her  money,  she  might  dio 
in  a  ditch  for  the  attention  they'd  pay  her." 

"  Well,  but,"  resumed  Miss  MacSrew,  unlocking  and 
rummaging  in  the  table-drawer  for  a  very  large,  old,  torn 
pocketbook,  tied  round  with  very  dirty  tape,  "  I  was 
told  he  was  ruined  by  one  of  his  most  particular  friends,  • 
his  most  particular  friends." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Datchet,  "  when  a  mischief  i«  to  bo 
done,  who  are  ready  to  go  such  lengths  as  one's  par- 
ticular friends'?  for,  knowing  all  about  one,  they  best 
know  the  vital  points  to  stick  tlie  injury  into ;  but  as  1 
live,"  added  he,  pointing  to  old  Elwes's  pinchbeck  box, 
tJiat  lay  ensconced  in  the  corner  of  the  drawer, "  if  there 


214  CHEVKLEY  ;  OR, 

ifi  not  my  old  friend  the  gold  box  that  you  fairly,  or, 
rather,  unfairly  did  me  out  of  two  years  ago.  Ah,  Miss 
MacScrew,  I'd  give  the  world  if  I  was  as  sharp  at  a 
bargain  as  you !" 

"  Oh !  three  guineas  is  a  great  price,  a  great  price 
had  it  been  diamonds,"  screamed  Miss  MacScrew,  while 
she  busily  pored  over  tlie  contents  of  the  old  pocket-' 
book,  which,  unlike  some  other  books,  had  once  been 
red.  "  Oh  here  it  is,"  cried  she,  selecting  from  the 
heterogeneous  mass  of  old  letters,  receipts,  and  ex- 
tracts from  newspapers,  a  foreign  letter,  directed  in  a 
very  scrawling  hand,  and  bearing  the  impress  of  a  dozen 
different  postmarks,  "  here  it  is — letter  from  Major 
Nonplus — always  endorse  my  letters."  So  saying,  she 
placed  the  following  document  in  Datchet's  hands. 

"  Geneva,  August  23,  180- 
"  Dear  Miss  MacScrew — Having  met  with  my  friend 
Grimstone  at  Paris  (on  my  way  here),  who  informed 
me  that  he  had  applied  to  you  to  raise  the  wind  against 
the  next  Triverton  election — as  1  never  lose  an  oppor- 
tunity of  trying  to  serve  a  friend,  I  must  write  you  a 
few  lines  to  try  and  spur  on  your  generosity.  The  fact 
is,  poor  fellow !  he  is  devilish  hard  up.  What  with 
gambling,  racing,  and  a  few  other  pastimes  that  young 
men  are  addicted  to — and  you  know  what  a  capricious 
old  Dust  the  mother  is — so  he's  no  great  things  to  ex- 
pect from  that  quarter;  and  as  to  the  peer,  I  firmly 
believe  he  is  so  hampered  himself,  that  he  would  not 
and  could  not  even  go  security  for  him  a  single  shilling; 
so  you  see  he  has  nobody  to  depend  upon  but  you,  to 
whom  we  all  know  money  can  and  ought  to  be  no  ob- 
ject ;  and  as  he  has  long  been  looking  out  for  an  heiress, 
I've  no  doubt  of  his  repaying  you  with  interest — when 
he  gets  one ;  but  as  all  ladies  are  '  melting  to  death  ivith 
ofen  charily,''  as  my  friend  Shakspeare  has  it,  I  need  not 
impress  upon  you  his  deplorable  situation.  Should  he 
lose  his  seat,  as  my  friends  the  Whigs  have  not  yet 
carried  the  abolition  of  imprisonment  for  debt,  though, 
when  one  remembers  the  vital  importance  its  abolition  is 
of  to  nearly  every  member  of  the  present  Parliament,  it 
is  to  be  hoped  for  their  own  sakes,  if  not  for  the  coun- 
try's at  large,  that  they  will*  carry  it,  and  that  they  will 
I  have  no  doubt,  for  to  repeat  a  compliment  which  my 

♦  The  major  was  prophetic. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  215 

friend  Sanmi  (though  a  terrible  Tory)  could  not  help 
paying  them  the  other  day,  nothing  seems  too  hot  or 
100  heavy  for  them,  as  their  talents  he  in  everything. 
Wonderful  men,  wonderful  men,  certainly.  When  you 
see  him,  pray  remember  me  to  your  brother — I  mean 
my  friend  the  major  in  the  44th — whom  I  hope  one  of 
these  days  to  be  congratulating  as  your  heir.  When  I 
return  to  England,  Mrs.  Nonplus  and  myself  will  hope 
to  see  you  down  in  Berkshire.  Mrs.  N.  is  at  present 
in  the  Tyrol,  or  would,  I'm  sure,  add  her  kind  regards 
to  those  of 

"  Dear  Miss  MacScrew, 

"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  Charles  Nonplus. 
"P.S.  Don't  let  my  friend   Grim.stone  know  that  I 
have  written  to  you  on  this  subject,  as  I  should  not  wish 
him  to  think  he  was  under  any  obligation  to  me." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  then  I  think  you  had  better  let  him 
know  it  instantly,  if  that  is  the  major's  object,"  said 
Datchet. 

"  But,  by  that  letter,  you  see  he  is  quite  ruined,  quite 
ruined,"  shrugged  Miss  MacScrew. 

"Yes,  yes,"  laughed  Datchet,  "I  perceive  that  that 
\etter  is  quite  enough  to  ruin  any  man ;  however,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  so  far  from  his  lordship's  not  going  security 
for  his  brother,  I  have  at  this  moment  a  letter  from  him 
to  his  man  of  business  in  London,  Mr.  Ljeali,  of  the 
firm  of  Lyeall,  Quibble,  and  ShufHeton,  authorizing  them 
to  give  the  most  ample  security  to  whoever  may  ad- 
vance the  money,  with  a  guarantee  to  repay  the  prin- 
cipal in  three  years  if  required  ;  and  as  I  intend  borrow- 
ing the  money  from  an  elderly  lady,  a  friend  of  my  own, 
I  have  Mr.  Herbert's  orders  to  pay  the  first  year's  inter- 
est in  advance.  I  know  the  lady  has  as  great  a  dislike  as 
yourself.  Miss  MacScrew,  to  lending  money  (and  very 
properly) ;  but  really  Mr.  Herbert,  in  the  event  of  his 
return,  intends  doing  things  in  such  a  princely  style, 
that  it  would  be  a  thousand  pities,  for  the  want  of  such 
a  paltry  sum,  he  should  not  be  returned,  and  I'm  sure 
all  the  ladies  ought  to  do  all  they  can  for  him,  for,  as 
he  says  himself,  members  make  a  great  fuss  about  poor 
laws,  and  factories,  and  municipal  reform,  and  corpora- 
tions, and  their  constituents ;  but  they  never  seem  to 
remember  how  much  those  constituents  are  influenced 


216  cheveley;  or, 

by  the  female  portion  of  the  community.  Why,  then, 
as  he  ver>'  justly  says,  should  not  their  interests,  that 
is,  their  pleasure  and  amusement,  be  more  attended  to 
by  members  who  have  the  lionour  to  represent  llieir 
husbands,  fathers,  brothers,  sons,  uncles,  cousins,  neph- 
ews, brothers-in-law,  falhers-in-Iaw,  grandsons,  and 
grand-nephews?  And  what  he  proposes  would  be  to 
give  a  ball  every  month  for  the  six  winter  months,  and 
have  Gunter  from  London  (all  at  his  own  expense)  to 
arrange  and  provide  the  supper,  while  any  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Triverton  and  its  vicinity  might  send  for 
the  fragments  the  next  day." 

During  this  harangue,  which  Datchet  uttered  with  in- 
conceivable rapidity,  as  though  he  feared  his  risible 
muscles  would  give  way  if  he  paused  on  a  single  sen- 
tence, Mis«  MacScrew  had  transferred  herself  to  every 
seat  in  the  room,  crossing  and  recrossing  her  legs  al- 
ternately. At  length,  when  Datchet  had  finished  speak- 
ing, and  was  very  diplomatically  rising  to  depart,  she 
repeated, 

"Hem,  good  security,  eh!  good  security,  and  princi- 
pal to  be  repaid  in  three  years ;  first  year's  interest  in 
advance ;  a  hundred  pounds,  a  hundred  pounds ;  great 
sum,  great  sum ;  did  you  say  ball  and  supper  every 
month,  every  month,  captain  ]" 

"  Yes,  1  believe  that  is  his  intention,"  replied  Datchet, 
carelessly  moving  towards  the  door,  upon  the  handle  of 
which  he  now  placed  his  hand,  adding,  "  Well,  good- 
morning,  ma'am ;  I  fear  I  shall  not  have  time  to  look  in 
upon  you  again  before  I  go." 

"  A-hem !  hem  !  stop  a  minute,  captain ;  a-hem  !  may 
I  ask  if  you  are  positively  engaged  to  the  elderly  lady 
you  mentioned  about  the  money?  I — a — mean,  must 
you  absolutely  borrow  it  from  her,  and  no  one  else!" 

"  Why,"  said  Datchet,  listlessly,  looking  up  at  a  cob- 
web over  the  door,  and  removing  his  right  foot  into  the 
hall  as  he  spoke, "  as  I  said  before,  she  was  at  first  very 
reluctant  to  lend  it ;  but  she  thinks  it  a  thousand  pities 
that  so  gallant  a  young  man,  who  has  all  the  ladies' 
welfare  so  much  at  heart,  should  not  be  returned ;  so  I 
think  she  is  now  anxious  to  do  so ;  but  I  am  not  farther 
bound  to  her  than  having  spoken  to  her  on  the  subject, 
which  is  not  yet  decided,  for  I  am  to  write  by  to-night's 
post  to  Messieurs  Lyeall,  Quibble,  and  Shuffleton — " 
"  Well  now,  really,"  said  Miss  MacScrew,  "  I  don't 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  217 

think  you  are  in  the  least  bound  to  her;  and  I — I 
should  Hke  to  obhge  Mr.  Grimstone  myself,  poor  young 
man ;  it  was  so  pretty  of  him  sending  me  those  things 
after  I  had  refused  him,  refused  him  the  money,  you 
know,  the  money.  And  such  young  men  like  him,  who 
give  balls  and  suppers,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  ought  to 
be  encouraged;  better  for  the  county,  better  for  the 
county  if  there  were  more  such  in  Parliament ;  so  sup- 
pose you  borrow  it  from  me  instead  of  the  other  lady  !" 

Datchet  gave  a  shake  of  the  head,  to  which  Lord  Bur- 
leigh's was  nothing,  as  he  replied,  in  a  slow,  desponding 
tone  of  voice,  "  Why,  I  don't  exactly  know  that  I  can 
do  that ;  however,"  added  he,  more  briskly,  as  though 
he  were  determined  to  brave  all  things  to  oblige  Miss 
MacScrew,  "  I'll  see  what  can  be  done,  and  let  you 
know  in  a  day  or  two  ;  so  good-by  for  the  present ;  but 
no,"  continued  he,  returning,  "  to-morrow  is  foreign  post- 
day,  and  I  must  write  to  Mr.  Herbert,  telling  him  that 
I  have  got  the  money ;  so  that,  if  I  do  it  at  all,  I  must 
close  with  you  now.  But  really,  Miss  MacScrew,  I  am 
half  afraid  ;  for,  besides  having  to  get  rid  of  the  old  lady, 
which  may  not  be  easy,  perhaps  Mr.  Herbert's  pride 
would  be  hurt  at  taking  it  from  you,  after  having  re- 
fused him  once  before.  Well,  it  can't  be  helped ;  it 
must  be  so,  I  suppose,"  said  he,  taking  off  his  gloves 
and  walking  to  the  table,  on  which  he  placed  them  and 
his  hat ;  "  see  what  scrapes  you  ladies  are  always  bring- 
ing us  unfortunate  men  into  !" 

"  No  scrapes  at  all,  no  scrapes  at  all,"  said  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  her  eyes  dancing  and  her  body  popping  up  and 
down  like  the  hammers  of  a  piano  ;  "  I  think  you  said 
the  first  year's  interest  in  advance,  first  year's  interest 
in  advance '." 

"  I  did,"  said  Datchet,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  large 
well-filled  pocketbook. 

"  Oh  !  well,  perhaps  you'll  just  write  a  little  memo- 
randum for  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties,  of  all  parties, 
you  know,  till  I  get  the  proper  instrument  from  Mr. 
Lyeall;"  saying  which.  Miss  MacScrew  opened  the 
table-drawer  to  look  for  the  back  of  a  letter  for  the 
purpose,  but  every  one  was  already  fiUed  with  divers 
interesting  reminiscences.  Two  very  dingy-looking 
novels  were  on  the  mantelpiece  ;  she  opened  them  in 
the  hope  of  finding  a  fly  leaf;  but,  like  her  ancestors, 
they  "  had  pone  before ;"  nothing  now  remained  but  to 

Vol.  I.— T 


218  CHEVELEY  ;     OR, 

go  into  the  passage  and  scream  for  Sally,  who,  when 
she  appeared,  was  ordered  to  run  down  to  the  De  Clif- 
ford Arms  and  borrow  a  sheet  of  paper  from  IMrs. 
Stokes.  "  And  here,"  added  Datchet,  giving  the  nymph 
of  the  scarlet  locks  and  zoneless  waist  a  sovereign  and 
five  shillings,  "  stop  at  Jackson's  the  stationer,  and 
bring  me  a  five-and-twenty  shilling  stamp." 

"  Be  I  to  pay  all  this  money  for  a  slip  of  paper  ?"  asked 
Sally,  her  eyes  and  mouth  opening  to  an  equal  width. 

"  You  be,"  replied  Datchet,  laughing ;  "  so  off  with 
you,  and  don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your  feet." 

As  soon  as  Sally  was  gone.  Miss  MacScrew  entered 
into  a  sprightly  conversation  with  Captain  Datchet 
touching  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone's  matrimonial  pros- 
pects. "  Well,  but  about  this  heiress  that  Major  Non- 
plus mentions ;  I  hope  that  is  not  as  false  as  anything 
else  he  stated  ?" 

"  I  really  don't  know,  but  think  it  more  likely  to  be 
true  than  most  of  the  worthy  major's  statements." 

"  He !  he !  he !  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Herbert  in 
love !  it  would  be  so  funny,  so  funny.  Suppose  he'd 
have  to  look  melancholy,  and  sigh  'heighho!'  like  any 
other  lover?" 

"  I've  no  doubt,"  said  Datchet,  laughing,  "  that  if  he 
was  making  love,  particularly  to  an  heiress,  he  would 
with  truth  sigh  I  owe  .'"  but  fearing  the  amiable  spinstei* 
might  detect  the  latent  meaning  of  his  pun,  lie  quickly 
changed  the  subject  to  that  strictly  national  one,  the 
weather,  when  Miss  MacScrew,  after  having  echoed  all 
his  opinions  thereupon  for  the  space  of  three  minutes, 
suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Apropos  des  bottes  ;  short  ac- 
counts make  long  friends,  you  know,  long  friends  ;  and, 
to  save  time,  I'll  make  out  Mr.  Herbert's  little  account 
to  me." 

"  Mr.  Herbert's  little  account  to  you !"  said  Datchet, 
with  unaffected  surprise ;  "  why,  I  was  not  aware  that 
he  owed  you  anything  till  he  borrows  the  two  thousand 
pounds." 

"  Oh,  only  a  few  little  things,  a  few  little  things ;" 
and  taking  up  a  small  piece  of  common  house  slate,  a 
fragment  of  which  served  for  a  pencil,  Miss  MacScrew 
scratched  down  the  following  items,  and  read  them  out 
as  she  wrote. 

"  Letter  from  Mr.  Herbert,  from  Paris,  asking  for  the 
money,  3.s.  %d. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  219 

"  Letter  on  Mr.  H.'s  business — business,  you  know — 
that  is  not  betraying  that  the  letter  was  from  Major 
Nonphis,  as  he  did  not  wish  liim  to  know  it,  2^.  lid. 

"  And  as  I  have  no  doubt  Mrs.  Stokes  will  eventually 
make  me  pay  for  the  sheet  of  paper  I  have  sent  for,  I'll 
put  paper  on  Mr.  H.'s  business,  Id. 

"  Which  just  makes  it — let  me  see — 


£ 

s. 

d. 

0 

2 

8 

0 

2 

11 

0 

0 

1 

0      5      8 

"  Five  and  eightpencc  exactly  !" 

This  was  almost  too  much  for  Captain  Datchet's 
gravity.  However,  with  the  assistance  of  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  and  an  artificial  fit  of  sneezing,  he  was  en- 
abled to  take  out  his  purse  with  tolerable  gravity,  and 
present  Miss  MacScrew  with  six  shillings,  adding  that 
he  had  no  halfpence. 

"  Oh !  well,  1  dare  say  there  will  be  more  sheets  of 
paper  wanted  before  the  business  is  over,  and  the  odd 
fourpence  will  do  to  pay  for  it,  you  know,  pay  for  it." 

Scarcely  had  Datchet  given  his  unqualified  assent  to 
this  provident  assertion,  before  Sally  returned,  bearing 
the  stamp  within  the  slieet  of  paper,  and  the  sheet  of 
paper  within  three  inches  of  white-brown  paper,  which 
in  its  turn  was  placed  within  Sally's  forefinger  and 
thumb. 

•'  Please,  ma'am,"  panted  Sally,  "  Mrs.  Stokes  says  as 
how  the  next  lime  you  wants  a  sheet  of  paper,  you'll 
find  Jackson's  the  stationer's  ten  doors  nearer  nor  the 
De  Clifibrd  Arras." 

"  Haven't  I  told  you,"  said  Miss  MacScrew,  snatching 
the  paper  out  of  Sally's  hand,  "  never  to  bring  me  any 
messages,  unless  it  is  an  invitation  to  dinner  or  to  tea,  or 
anything  of  that  sort,  but  never  from  tliose  sort  of  peo- 
ple \  There,  that  will  do;  you  may  go.  Now  you  are 
sure,"  continued  Miss  MacScrew,  turning  to  Datchet,  as 
soon  as  Sally  had  closed  the  door,  "  you  are  sure  that 
the  security  is  unexceptionable?" 

"  Oh  !  not  better  in  England,  of  which  Messrs.  Lyeall, 
Quibble,  and  Shuffleton  will  clearly  satisfy  you  ;  and  as 
for  the  principal,  here  is  a  promissory  note  of  Mr.  Her- 


220  cheveley;  or, 

bert's,  fiUed  up  with  all  but  the  lender's  name,  agreeing 
to  repay  it  in  three  years  if  required,  for  which  his 
brother  makes  himself  responsible." 

Miss  MacScrew  took  the  note,  turned  it,  and  looked 
at  it  in  every  possible  direction,  thereby  evincing  her  sa- 
gacity ;  for  Mr.  Herbert  Grimstone  was  so  innately  clas- 
sical, that  upon  Cicero's  authority  he  adopted  the  old  Ro- 
"inan  double  and  antithetical  meaning  of  the  word  prom- 
ise, which  was  with  him,  as  it  had  been  with  them  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  both  promiltcre  and  recipere. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  apparently  satisfied  with  the  ex- 
amination, "  I'll  give  you  a  bill  on  my  bankers,  at  two 
months  after  date,  after  date,  you  know,  which  will 
be  more  convenient  than  after  sight." 

"  No  comparison,"  responded  Datchet,  as  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  preparatory  to  the  operation,  emptied  a  little 
water  out  of  the  before-mentioned  shaving-pot  into  a 
cracked  egg-cup  that  contained  some  dried-up  ink ;  and 
Datchet  having  mended  the  old  stump  which  had  once 
been  a  pen,  Miss  MacScrew  proceeded  with  a  trembling 
hand  to  fill  up  the  stamp  with, 

"  October  10th,  180-. 

"  Messieurs  Tugwell  and  Holdfast — Please  to  pay  to 
my  order,  two  months  after  date,  to  Mr.  Herbert  Grim- 
stone,  or  bearer,  the  sum  of  two  thousand  pounds,  for 
value  received. 

"  Lavinia  MacScrew. 
"  To  Messrs.  Tugwell  and  Holdfast,  bankers, 
No.  —  Fleet-street,  London." 

"  Now  I'll  just  keep  this  till  I  get  Mr.  Lyeall's  letter. 
When  will  that  be  ?"  added  Miss  MacScrew,  carefully 
locking  up  the  bill. 

"  Why,  if  I  write  by  to-day's  post,  as  I  shall  do,"  said 
Datchet,  "  you  will  hear  from  him  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row. And  now  for  the  first  year's  interest."  Saying 
which,  he  counted  out  five  ten-pound  and  ten  five-pound 
notes,  which  he  handed  to  Miss  MacScrew,  who  got 
into  an  additional  trepidation,  requesting  to  know  if  he 
could  not  give  it  to  her  in  fewer  notes,  for  it  was  so  very, 
very  dangerous  walking  up  High-street  with  so  much 
money,  which  she  must  do,  to  deposite  it  in  the  Blich- 
ingly  Bank. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can  give  you  two  fifty-pound  notes  in- 
Btead,"  said  Datchet. 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  221 

"  Thank  you ;  that  is  much  more  convenient,"  said 
Miss  MacScrew,  untying  her  Leghorn  Golgotha,  and 
carefully  pinning  the  two  fifty-pound  notes  in  the  crowTi 
of  it  with  a  very  large  pin,  wliich  from  long  and  constant 
wear  shone  out  in  all  its  brazen  glory,  and  added  to  the 
already  various  decorations  of  that  immortal  bonnet. 

"  Well,  once  more  good-by,  ma'am  !"  said  Datchet, 
buttoning  bis  coat  carefully  over  his  pocketbook ;  "  and 
remember,  if  I  get  into  any  scrape  with  I\Ir.  Herbert 
about  taking  this  money  from  you,  you  must  bear  me 
harmless." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'll  bear  you  harmless,"  giggled  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  nodding  her  head,  which  was  all  the  better  for 
the  additional  hundred  pounds  she  had  got  in  it;  "but 
I'm  sure  Mr.  Herbert  is  too  gallant  to  be  angry  with  a 
lady  ;  you  know  a  lady — " 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  there  is  much  chance  of  his  be- 
ing angry  with  you,  or  even  me,  on  the  present  occa- 
sion," said  Datchet,  as  he  walked  into  the  hall  to  con- 
ceal his  laughter,  which,  hoM'ever,  he  could  not  indulge 
even  there,  as  he  was  closely  followed  by  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  who  always  officiated  as  her  own  porter,  and 
opened  the  street  door.  No  sooner  had  she  done  so  on 
this  eventful  morning,  than  a  huge  black  cat  rushed  into 
the  hall,  carrying  a  herring  in  its  mouth,  which  it  had 
just  purloined  from  the  neighboin-iiig  coal-shed.  In  its 
anxiety  to  cover  its  retreat,  it  rushed  between  Miss  Mac- 
Screw's  feet,  thereby  greatly  endangering  her  equilib- 
rium ;  but  she  supported  herself  against  the  wall,  and 
with  great  pres«'nce  of  mind  cried  out,  "  Sally,  Sally, 
stop  that  horrid  cat !"'  Now,  luckily  for  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  but  unluckily  for  the  cat,  Sally  was  coming  up 
stairs  at  the  time,  and  did  as  her  mistress  desired  her, 
when  that  lady  sprang  forward  and  forcibly  wrested  the 
herring  from  the  cat's  mouth,  which  she  had  no  sooner 
done  than  she  let  the  lawless  marauder  loose  upon  so- 
ciety again,  by  allowing  him  to  pursue  his  way  without 
further  molestation  through  the  staircase  window, 
which,  when  he  had  done.  Miss  MacScrew  made  over 
the  herring  to  Sally's  custody,  with  orders  to  dress  it 
immediately ;  "  and  then,  Sally,  put  it  by,  for  I  am  ex- 
ceedingly fond  of  cold  fish,  exceedingly  fond;  and  it 
will  do  for  my  limcheon  to-morrow ;  hate  cats,  they 
are  such  horrid  thieves,  horrid  thieves !" 

"  Humph !"  thought  Datchet,  as  he  wended  his  way 
T2 


222  CHKVELEY  J    OR, 

out  of  Lavender-lane,  and  who  had  been  exceedingly 
amused  at  the  whole  scene ;  "  they  say  one  should  al- 
ways hear  both  sides  of  the  question;  and  I  dare  say, 
if  the  cat  could  speak,  he  would  say  you  were  a  horrid 
thief,  and  I've  no  doubt  he  would  be  able  to  make  out 
his  case  very  clearly." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  Not  that  the  thing  was  either  rich  or  rare, 
They  only  wondered  how  the  d — 1  it  got  there." 

"Yes,  I  have  said  it — love,  madam — life  and  death  lie  in  your 
tongue." — Schiller's  Fiesco,  translated  by  G.  H.  N.  and  J.  S. 

"  Who,  though  they've  been  fierce  foes  before, 
Soon  as  the  cause  is  done  and  o'er, 
Shake  hands,  and  then  are  foes  no  more." 

Our  Lawyer*. 

After  Datchet's  departure,  Miss  MacScrew  had  just 
time  to  complete  a  demi-toilet  for  the  day,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  soft,  thick,  yet  thin  muslin  dress,  which  had 
once  been  white,  with  sundry  pyramidical  flounces,  and 
which  "  clung  round  her  like  a  lover,"  surmounted  by  a 
blue  cloth  spencer,  with  a  very  tight  back  and  equally 
tight  sleeves,  when  Mrs.  and  Miss  Tymmons  drove  to 
the  door  in  the  green  fly,  thinking  "  it  would  be  pleasanter 
to  dear  Miss  MacScrew  to  drive,"  or,  as  they  said,  to 
ride,  "  than  to  walk,  as  she  might  have  some  shopping 
to  do  before  she  came  to  them." 

"  Oh,  very  lucky,  very  lucky  !"  said  the  fair  Lavinia, 
as  she  wedged  herself  in  between  fat  Mrs.  Tymmons, 
"for  I  want  to  go  to  the  Bank,  not  to  leave  or  get  any 
money,  not  to  get  any  money,  but  just  to  ask  a  question, 
a  question,  you  know." 

Nature  could  not  have  well  invented  two  greater  per- 
sonal contrasts  than  Miss  MacScrew  and  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons, for  the  latter  rejoiced  in  a  form  of  infinite  ro- 
tundity, with  a  face  like  a  full  moon  in  a  scarlet  fever, 
and  eyes  pale,  mild,  and  full  as  bottled  gooseberries. 
Mrs.  Tymmons  had  been  a  blonde,  and,  consequently, 
had  subsided  into  a  bay-wig,  with  little,  fat,  round,  shi- 


THE   MAN   OF   HONOUR.  223 

ny  curls,  that  looked  like  capillary  forced-meat  balls. 
Having  got  into  the  habit  of  presenting  Mr.  Tymmons 
with  an  annual  miniature  of  himself,  she  had  acquired 
the  appearance  of  always  being  in  that  interesting  situ- 
ation, even  during  the  three  intermediate  months ;  con- 
sequently, Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tymmons  were  the  happy  pa- 
rents of  what,  in  England,  is  called  "  a  fine  family ;" 
that  is,  half  a  dozen  sons  and  daughters,  one  uglier  than 
another.  Miss  Tymmons  was,  in  spite  of  her  pongcau- 
coloured  hair,  considered  by  her  parents,  and  indeed  by 
every  one  in  I31ichingly,  except  the  Simmonses,  "  a  very 
genteel  (!)  girl ;"  for  she  sat  very  uprightly  on  her  chair, 
never  had  a  crease  upon  any  of  her  clothes,  scarcely  ever 
spoke,  and  never  laughed  at  anything  that  she  heard 
or  read,  for  fear  it  should  not  be  proper,  and  had  for- 
bidden her  brothers  (with  whom  she  was  an  oracle)  to 
read  the  Pickwick  papers,  because,  as  she  said,  they 
were  so  "  very  low  and  ungenteel,"  and,  for  her  part,  she 
could  not  conceive  why  people  thought  them  so  clever. 
She  had  only  two  brothers  at  home,  Mr.  Rush  Tym- 
mons, who,  as  we  have  already  stated,  was  all  poetry, 
pensiveness,  and  peculiarity,  being  the  genius  of  the 
family ;  Mr.  Joseph,  on  the  contrary,  being  destined  to 
follow  his  father's  calling,  was  the  man  of  business.  In 
proyortion  as  Mr.  liush  was  tall  and  thin,  he  was  fat 
and  short,  with  nice,  fat,  sleek-looking,  dark -brown  hair, 
like  the  ears  of  a  pointer  pup,  and  a  face  between  a 
cherubim's  and  a  trumpeter's,  only  his  whiskers  stand- 
ing boldly  out  like  wings,  made  it  rather  more  approxi- 
mate to  the  former. 

Mr.  Joseph  Tymmons's  only  peculiarity  was  attending 
every  wedding  that  took  place  within  ten  miles  round, 
no  doubt  to  study  how  he  was  to  comport  himself  against 
the  time  when  he  should  act  a  principal  part  at  one,  for 
he  made  it  a  point  to  propose  to  every  young  lady  he 
danced  with  twice,  and  had  thereby  obtained  the  title 
of  "  Solicitor-General,"  which  his  sire  looked  upon  as  a 
lucky  professional  omen.  Mr.  Tymmons,  senior,  re- 
quires no  separate  description,  for  he  was  whatever  his 
wife  and  daughters  pleased,  and  his  dress,  which  was 
the  principal  part  of  him,  consisted,  all  the  year  round, 
of  a  snuff-coloured  coat,  mud-coloured  results,  and  gai- 
ters of  the  same,  except  in  full  dress,  when  it  was  ex- 
changed for  a  blue  coat,  gilt  buttons,  white  waistcoat, 
and  black  brevities.   The  three  younger  Miss  Tymmons- 


224  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

es  were  not  remarkable  for  anjrthing  beyond  the  way 
their  hair  kept  in  curl  in  all  weathers,  and  the  constan- 
cy with  which  they  talked  of  "  the  officers,"  there  be- 
ing generally  a  detachment  of  cavalry  quartered  at 
Triverton,  and  the  promptitude  with  which  they  wrote 
to  London  for  the  "  Key"  (!)  of  every  fashionable  novel 
that  came  out,  and  got  tlie  names  by  heart.  So  much 
for  Miss  Maria,  Sarah,  and  Isabella  Tymmons.  The 
remaining  scions  consisted  of  Master  Grimstone  Tym- 
mons, aged  four,  who  did  as  much  mischief,  ate  as  much 
apple-pudding,  and  accumulated  as  many  scratched  fa- 
ces as  any  young  gentleman  of  the  same  tender  years; 
to  say  nothing  of  his  exercising  a  truly  manly  degree  of 
embryo  bashawism  over  his  youngest  sister,  Miss  Bar- 
bara Tymmons,  who,  not  yet  being  able  to  walk,  had  no 
means  of  running  away  from  his  persecutions,  and  could 
therefore  only  defend  herself  from  them  by  proving,  with 
the  perfectionized  skill  of  eighteen  months'  practice,  that 
her  lungs  were  perfectly  sound.  Scarcely  had  the  fly 
crawled  out  of  Lavender-lane,  before  Mrs.  Tymmons 
began  panting  and  patting  her  sides  with  sundry  affec- 
tionate pats  of  her  little  fat  hands. 

"  My  dear  Mith  MacScrew,"  lisped  she  at  last,  in  a 
most  humble  and  imploring  voice,  "  would  it  be  too 
much  for  you  if  I  had  a  bit  of  the  fly  open  ]  it  is  so  very 
close." 

"  Oh  dear,  no  ;  should  like  it  of  all  things  ;  these  hard 
times  glad  to  raise  the  wind,  you  know,  raise  the  wind 
—he  !  he  !  he  !" 

Now  Mrs.  Tymmons  knew  that  Miss  MacScrew  nev- 
er tittered  at  the  end  of  one  of  her  own  speeches, 
without  meaning  to  let  people  know  that  she  had  said 
something  which  she  thought  witty  ;  so  accordingly 
Mrs.  Tymmons  laughed,  and  said,  "  Very  good,  very 
good  indeed.  Miss  MacScrew ;"  but  Miss  Tymmons 
looked  even  more  grave  than  usual,  for  she  did  not 
think  it  was  '■'■  gentceV  to  talk  about  wind,  and  raising 
the  wind  she  thought  a  particularly  "  ungenteeV  ex- 
pression. 

"  Seraphina,  my  love,"  said  her  mother,  "just  put 
your  head  out  of  the  window,  and  tell  Alontho  to  stop 
and  open  the  carriage." 

Seraphina  did  as  she  was  desired,  but  exactly  in  the 
low,  faint,  inaudible  voice  that  might  naturally  be  sup- 
posed to  issue  from  a  fly ;  consequently,  Alonzo  did  not 
hear. 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  225 

*'  Never  mind,  love,  I'll  call  to  him,"  said  Mrs.  Tyra- 
mons,  squeezing  her  bust  through  the  window,  and 
screaming  at  tlie  top  of  her  voice,  "  Alontho,  Alontho, 
Alontho  !  you  stupid  oaf,  are  you  deaf  1" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Alonzo,  pulling  up:  but  whether 
in  answer  to  the  sound  or  the  sense  of  his  mistress's 
interrogation,  is  not  known. 

"  Open  a  bit  of  the  carriage,"  resumed  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Alonzo,  thumping  away  with  a 
stone  at  the  obstinate  hinges  of  the  fly,  which,  howev- 
er, at  length  yielded,  after  undergoing,  for  ten  minutes, 
as  much  martyrdom  as  St.  Stephen ;  a  strip  of  the  fly 
was  opened,  and  a  slice  of  air  let  in,  much  to  the  relief 
of  Mrs-  Tymmons,  wiio  drew  one  long  breath  previous 
to  telling  Alonzo  to  drive  to  the  bank.  No  sooner  had 
they  arrived  there,  than  Miss  MacScrew  got  into  a  ter- 
rible flutter,  assuring  them  she  should  not  be  a  minute, 
and  therefore  begging  that  neither  of  them  would  take 
the  trouble  of  accompanying  her.  Alighting  from  the 
fly,  she  made  a  precipitate  rush  into  the  bank,  which, 
to  her  great  satisfaction,  contained  nobody  but  the  clerk, 
who,  seeing  Miss  MacScrew,  and  knowing  that  her 
usual  demand  was  from  three  to  five  pounds,  got  both 
sums  ready. 

"  Don't  want  money  to-day  ;  come  to  leave  money, 
come  to  leave  money,"  said  she,  hopping  up  to  his 
desk,  and  beginning  to  untie  her  bonnet,  which,  how- 
ever, was  a  work  of  some  little  time  and  trouble,  she 
having  tied  it  in  a  multitude  of  knots  for  further  secu- 
rity. At  length  the  last  was  undone,  and  the  poor  clerk 
could  with  difficulty  keep  his  countenance,  when  he 
beheld  Miss  MacScrew's  monklike  coiff'eur,  her  head 
being  perfectly  bald,  and  her  forehead  alone  decorated 
with  the  tufts  of  dusty  black  curls.  "  Here,"  said  she, 
unpinning  the  two  fifty-pound  notes,  and  placing  them 
before  the  clerk,  while  she  looked  cautiously  round  to 
see  that  no  one  was  looking  or  listening,  "  here,  you 
see  how  much  it's  for,"  pointing  to  the  amount,  for  she 
would  not  breathe  it  for  the  world,  lest  it  might  be  over- 
heard, "  and  you'll  give  me  a  receipt  for  it ;  quick,  if 
you  please,  quick." 

"  You  have  a  fine  clear  head  for  business,  ma'am," 
said  the  clerk,  with  a  half  smile,  glancing  at  her  bald 
pate,  as  he  romovod  the  pen  from  behind  his  ear  to 


226  CHEVELEY  ;  OR, 

write  the  receipt,  which  he  no  sooner  handed  to  her 
than  it  was  pinned  in  the  same  place  that  its  prede- 
cessors, the  fifty-pound  notes,  had  previously  occupied, 
and  Miss  MacScrcw  shuffled  out  of  the  bank  even 
faster  than  she  had  shuffled  into  it.  "  Sorry  to  have 
kept  you  so  long,"  said  she,  scrambling  into  the  fly ; 
"  but  these  people  at  country  banks  are  so  stupid, 
there's  no  getting  an  answer  from  them,  no  getting  an 
answer  from  them." 

"  I'm  sure  you've  not  been  at  all  long,"  said  Mrs. 
Tymnions  ;  "has  she,  Seraphina  ?" 

"  By  no  means,"  dulcified  Seraphina. 

"  Where  to  now.  Miss  MacScrew  ]"  inquired  Mrs. 
Tymmons,  as  Alonzo  stood  holding  the  brim  of  his  hat 
with  his  whip-hand,  to  the  great  risk  of  putting  out  his 
right  eye. 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  cheap  shoemaker's  in  Silver-street ; 
I  mean  he  is  poor,  poor  you  know,  and  it's  a  charity  to 
deal  with  poor  people,  and  he's  selling  off,  you  know, 
selling  olf ;  his  name  is  White ;  he  has  some  shoes  of 
mine  to  alter,  to  alter ;  I  should  like  to  go  and  see  if 
they  are  done." 

"  Go  to  White's,  the  shoemaker,  in  Silver-street." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Alonzo,  ascending  the  box,  and 
urging  on  the  reluctant  steed. 

"  Hope  I'm  not  taking  you  out  of  the  way  though, 
out  of  the  way  V  said  Miss  MacScrew. 

"  Not  in  the  leathst,"  responded  Mrs.  Tymmons  ;  "  I'm 
thure  we're  alwayth  happy  to  be  of  any  uthe  to  you, 
Mith  MacScrew." 

Suddenly  the  fly  stopped.  "  WhaMs  the  matter  t" 
sci-eamed  Mrs.  Tymmons. 

"  Nothing,  ma'am,"  said  Alonzo,  stretching  over  his 
body  and  looking  down  through  the  aperture  in  the  fly, 
"  only  they're  mending  the  street,  and  I  can't  get  up." 

"  Dear,  dear,  how  very  tirelhome,''''  cried  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons ;  "  would  you  mind  walking  as  far  as  the  shoe- 
maker's, my  dear  Mith  MacScrew  V 

"  Not  in  the  least,  not  in  the  least,"  said  that  accom- 
modating lady  ;  accordingly  the  three  graces  descended 
from  the  fly,  and  walked  up  Silver-street  till  they  got  to 
the' shoemaker's,  which  was  the  last  shop  in  the  street. 

"  Are  my  shoes  done,  Mr.  White  V  asked  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  hobbling  into  the  shop. 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  White,  who  was  busily 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  227 

employed  pasting  some  bills,  and  evidently  ia  all  the 
chaos  of  removing,  "  one  of  them  has  been  mended  so 
often  that  I  really  could  not  make  a  job  of  it  at  all,  but 
I'll  let  you  have  a  new  pair  very  cheap,  as  I  am  sell- 
ing off." 

"  What  do  you  call  very  cheap  ?  All  an  excuse  for 
not  mending  the  others,  all  an  excuse ;  tradespeople 
always  impose  upon  one,  always  impose  upon  one." 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  White,  totally  disregard- 
ing the  compliment  to  himself  and  his  order,  "  five 
shillings  I  call  very  cheap." 

"  Oh  shocking  !  dreadful !"  screamed  Miss  MacScrew, 
throwing  herself  into  a  cliair  ;  "  sha'n't  give  you  any 
such  thing ;  robbery,  perfect  robbery  ;  but  give  me  some 
shoes  to  try  !" 

Now  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  Miss  MacScrew 
could  even  contemplate  disbursing  so  large  a  sum  as 
four  or  five  shillings  without  taking  all  due  precautions 
to  ascertain  which  pair  of  Mr.  White's  shoes  could 
possibly  be  worth  such  a  sum ;  accordingly,  she  spent 
full  half  an  hour  in  balancing  between  their  contending 
claims:  it  so  happened,  as  we  have  before  stated, when 
the  three  ladies  entered  the  shop,  tliat  Mr.  White  Avas 
busy  pasting  bills,  which  were,  in  fact,  no  other  than 
announcements  that  his  shop  was  to  be  let,  contained  in 
the  words, "  To  be  disposed  of,  inquire  of  the  proprietor," 
in  large  printed  letters,  and,  in  his  hurry  to  attend  to 
his  customers,  he  put  the  last  bill  he  had  pasted  aside, 
by  placing  it,  with  the  pasted  side  upward,  on  the 
back  of  a  chair.  Unfortunately,  it  was  into  this  very 
chair  Miss  MacScrew  had  flung  herself,  and  leaning  back 
for  so  long  a  period  as  half  an  hour,  the  aforesaid  bill 
meeting  no  impediment  in  the  very  flat  surface  of  her 
tight-backed  spencer,  had  ample  time  not  only  to  adhere, 
but  to  dry  upon  her  back.  "  Well,"  said  she,  rising  at 
length,  "  send  me  this  pair  to-morrow  morning ;  but  re- 
member, I  sha'n't  give  you  anythhig  like  five  shillings." 

Mrs.  and  Miss  Tymmons  had  walked  out  of  the  shop. 
Mr.  White  walked  side  by  side  with  Miss  MacScrew, 
protesting  he  could  not  let  her  have  the  shoes  for  less ; 
so  that  poor  Miss  MacScrew  joined  her  friends  in  the 
street  without  the  remotest  idea  that  she  was  enacting 
the  part  of  the  "  Public  Advertiser,"  till  she  heard  the 
"  hue  and  cry"  her  appearance  occasioned.  Shouts  of 
laughter  greeted  her  as  she  passed  along,  while,  to  add 


228  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

to  her  astonishment,  all  the  faces  she  met  were  per- 
fectly grave ;  but  behind  her  the  tumult  was  increasing 
every  minute :  till  at  length  she  was  surrounded  by  a 
mob  of  boys,  hooting  and  yelling,  with  pocket-handker- 
chiefs tied  on  sticks,  which  they  waved  over  her  like 
flags.  One  cried  out,  "  How  much  do  you  ask  for 
yourself,  old  money-spinner  V  while  another  answered, 
"  They  say  she's  worth  a  plum,  but  I  would  not  give 
twopence  for  her ;"  and  a  third  screamed  still  louder, 
"  No,  no,  the  debentures  are  all  very  well ;  but  any  one 
may  have  the  personals  for  me." 

Poor  Miss  MacScrew  turned  and  twisted,  and  twist- 
ed and  turned ;  but  the  more  she  turned,  the  more  the 
mob  laughed  and  shouted ;  and  in  one  of  her  turnings 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Tymmons  discovered  the  cause  of  all 
their  mirth.  The  former  nearly  went  into  hysterics  on 
the  spot;  and  Miss  Seraphina  would  have  made  it  a 
point  to  faint,  but  that  she  providentially  remembered, 
just  as  she  was  going  oflF  against  a  lamp-post,  that  she 
had  somewhere  read,  in  one  of  her  favourite  fashionable 
novels,  that  there  was  nothing  so  vulgar  as  making  a 
scene,  even  let  the  provocation  be  what  it  might ;  ac- 
cordingly, she  returned  to  the  perpendicular,  and  looked 
immoveable.  At  this  crisis,  who  should  pass  along  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  but  the  Reverend  Nathaniel 
Peter  Hoskins.  True,  a  gulf  yawned  between  him  and 
his  Lavinia,  of  scattered  mould  and  upturned  stones, 
while  within  the  deep  abyss  were  gas-pipes  black  and 
bare  as  the  phantoms  of  a  German  forest.  What  of 
this  ? 

"  Love's  heralds  should  be  thoughts, 
Which  ten  times  faster  glide  than  the  sun's  beams, 
Driving  back  shadows  over  low'ring  hills. 
Therefore  do  nimbledpinion'd  doves  draw  Love, 
And  therefore  hath  the  wind-swift  Cupid  wings." 

Wherefore,  this  being  the  part  Mr.  Hoskins  determined 
to  act,  the  air  in  the  narrow  street  became  suddenly  dark- 
ened, as  it  were,  with  long  black  legs  and  arms,  rustling 
like  the  wings  of  the  glums  and  glowries,  as  the  fascina- 
ting Peter  flung  himself  across  the  street  to  the  rescue  of 
his  "  ladye  love,"  and  with  one  magic  incantation,  per- 
formed by  a  circular  movement  of  his  walking-stick 
above  their  heads,  and  a  quickly-uttered  spell,  in  which 
the  words  beadle,  treadmill,  and  stocks  were  the  only 
ones  audible,  the  mob  evaporated  instantaneously. 

"Bless  me!"  said  Miss  MacScrew,  backing  into  a 


THE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  229 

shop,  in  which  she  and  her  companions  all  took  refuge, 
"  is  that  you,  Mr.  Hoskins  1  you  know  I  never  was  to 
speak  to  you  again,  never  was  to  speak  to  you  again; 
but,  as  the  proverb  says,  misfortune  brings  one  acquaint- 
ed with  strange — " 

"  Bedfellows,"  achieved  Peter,  floundering  through 
one  of  his  most  gallant  bows,  and  grinning  like  a  face 
over  a  hall-door. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me,"  said  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  first  feeling  one  of  her  arms  and  then  the  other, 
as  though  anxious  to  ascertain  beyond  a  doubt  her  own 
identity,  "  now  that  you  have  got  rid  of  those  odious 
wretches,  what  they  were  all  hooting  and  yelling  about, 
and  following  me  ]  me,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  who 
for  the  last  ten  years  have  been  in  the  habit  of  walking 
through  Blichingly,  from  morning  till  night,  without 
ever  being  followed  by  any  one." 

Mr.  Hoskins  spoke  in  a  broad  northern  accent,  always 
saying  booke  for  book ;  augh  for  I ;  vagabone  for  vag- 
abond ;  with  several  other  little  elocutionary  gems  that 
gave  a  brilliancy  and  zest  to  everything  he  uttered. 
So,  casting  a  retrospective  glance  at  the  placard  on  Miss 
MacScrew'sback,  he  repHed,  wriggling  through  another 
bow, 

"  Augh  raley  don't  know,  unless  it  is  the  tempting 
notice  ye  have  pasted  on  yer  bock — '  To  be  disposed 
of,  inquire  of  the  proprietor;'  and  I  can  only  assure  ye, 
Miss  MacScrcw,  that  I  hop  to  find  myself  "first  on  the 
list  of  opplicants  for  so  valuable  and  desirable  a  prop- 
erty." 

"  All  you  are  saying  may  be  very  witty  and  clever,  I 
have  no  doubt,  very  witty  and  clever;  but  as  I  do  not 
understand  one  word  of  it,  I'll  thank  you  to  speak  in 
plain  English,  plain  English,"  said  Miss  MacScrew, 
drawing  up  with  the  tyrannical  air  of  a  coquetish  young 
beauty. 

"  My  dear  Mith  IMacScrew,"  cried  Mrs.  Tymmons, 
coming  to  her  kinsman's  assistance,  "  ith  a  motht  unfor- 
tunate contcr-tong'"'  (Mrs.  Tymmons  was  in  the  habit  of 
speaking  French  with  the  Dowager  Lady  de  Clifford), 
"  but  when  you  were  at  White's  you  leant  against  a  chair 
that  had  one  of  hith  billths  on  the  back  of  it,  and  it  stuck 
to  your  spencer,  thath  all ;  and  the  mob  theeing  it,  fol- 
lowed uth,  and  hooted  ath  they  did,  and  it  ith  to  that  bill 
my  couthin  alludes." 

Vot.  I  — U 


230  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  Oh  dear,  how  very  dreadful,  shocking,  terrible ! 
Sha'n't  pay  White  anything  for  the  shoes  after  his  hav- 
ing those  horrid  bills,  and  shall  never  enter  his  vile  shop 
again,  for  fear  he  should  do  something  worse  to  me." 

"  Ne  sutor  ultra  cre-pidam^''  muttered  Hoskins. 

"  What's  that  ?  what's  that  V  asked  Miss  MacScrew. 

"  Augh  was  saying  augh  defy  him  to  go  beyond  his 
last  act  of  atrocity,  and  augh  think  yer  quite  right  in 
yer  resolve  of  never  entering  his  shop  again  after  such 
a  bill;  for  though  one  ought  always  be  ready  to  vieet  a 
bill,  yet  augh  declare  it's  not  pleasant  to  be  endorsed 
in  this  way  one's  self,  as  it  does  not  get  one  honoured  at 
sight ;"  and  Peter's  teeth  protruded  more  than  ever,  as 
he  passed  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to  hide  an  ill-timed 
grin  at  his  own  bad  puns. 

"  A-hem  !  Miss  Seraphina,  my  dear,  do  be  so  good  as 
to  take  that  odious  bill  off  ray  back,  off  my  back ;  looks 
so  shocking,  you  know,  so  shocking." 

Miss  Seraphina  tried  and  tried,  but  the  obstinate  pa- 
per would  only  come  off  by  instalments. 

"I  cannot  get  it  all  out,  I  fear,"  said  she,  in  a  languid 
voice,  tired  of  her  exertions. 

"  Augh  doubt  it's  a  difficult  matter  to  get  onything  out 
of  her,"  muttered  Peter  sotto  voce,  walking  to  the  door 
to  hide  another  grin. 

"  I  think,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Tymmons,  sympathizing- 
ly,  "  my  couthin  had  better  go  to  the  carriage  for  your 
shawl,  Mith  MacScrew !" 

Peter  waited  for  no  further  orders,  but  rushed  out  of 
the  shop  like  a  whirlwind,  and  strode  down  the  street  a 
la  monstre  in  Frankenstein,  till  he  reached  the  fly,  and 
Alonzo  handed  him  out  Miss  MacScrew's  variegated 
lambswool  garment,  with  which  he  returned  at  the  same 
speed.  When  he  entered  the  shop,  he  flung  himself  on 
one  knee,  and  said,  in  a  theatrical  tone,  as  he  presented 
it  to  its  owner,  "  How  augh  envy  this  happy  shawl,  to 
cover  so  much  beauty  and  grace !" 

"  Nonsense,  perfect  nonsense ;  you  either  take  me 
for  a  fool  or  are  mad,  quite  mad,"  said  Miss  MacScrew, 
gathering  the  friendly  worsted  rainbow  tightly  round 
her,  and  walking  out  of  the  shop. 

"  'Twas  your  beauty  made  me  so,  then,"  persisted 
Peter,  walking  by  her  side  and  bowing  over  his  hands, 
which  he  had  first  placed  on  his  heart,  while  his  sharp 
and  bony  elbows  stood  out  in  fine  relief,  like  the  han- 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  231 

dies  of  an  Etruscan  vase.  "  It's  to  be  hoped,"  contin- 
ued he,  "  that  ye'll  let  me  see  ye  safe  horn ;  for  ye  see 
the  dangers  a  lone  woman  is  exposed  to." 

"  No  dangers  at  all,  no  dangers  at  all.  Dine  at  Mr. 
Tymmons's,  dine  at  Mr.  Tymmons's." 

"  Maugh  I  never  cat  another  dinner  if  augh  don't  dine 
there  too !"  chuckled  Peter,  with  un-put-down-able  and 
un-offend-able  gallantry ;  "  for  augh'm  sure  my  cousin 
Sarah  there  would  never  be  so  inhospitable  as  to  shut 
her  doors  upon  a  relation  with  such  a  fule  heart  and 
empty  stomach  as  augh  am  suffering  from  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

"  Why,  my  dear  Peter,  you  know  the  way  we  are 
thituated,"  said  Mrs.  Tymmons,  shaking  her  head ; 
"consider  our  small"  (Anglice,  large)  "  family;  and  you 
know  it  would  be  ath  much  ath  all  Mithtcr  'i'ymmons's 
other  practith  ith  worth  to  offend  old  Lady  de  Clifford; 
and  if  slic  wath  to  hear  that  we  athked  you  to  dinner, 
1  don't  know  what  the  conthequence  might  be,  particu- 
larly after  her  standing  godmother  to  Barbara." 

"  Augh  think  yer  very  right  not  to  ask  me  to  dinner, 
if  you  think  it  would  offend  the  auld  duchess  and  lose 
ye  anything  ;  but  it  maks  all  the  difference  if  I  ask  my- 
self to  dinner.  And  if  auld  Lady  Overreach  should 
hear  of  it,  why  she  could  only  say  that  it  did  great  cred- 
it to  my  head  and  hort  to  wish  to  be  on  such  friendly 
terms  with  my  relations."  So  saying,  Peter,  sans  ccr- 
femonie,  leaped  into  the  ily,  after  depositing  Miss  Mac- 
Screw  and  his  cousins  in  it  first,  and,  in  a  mattre-de-la- 
maison  toliie,  ordered  Alonzo  to  drive  home,  that  is,  to 
Mr.  Tymmons's  red-bricked,  grcen-doored,  and  brass- 
knockered  edifice  in  High-street,  where  they  had  no 
sooner  arrived  than  Alonzo  was  ordered  by  Miss  Tym- 
mons to  rap  loud,  as  there  was  nothing  so  "ungenteel" 
as  for  a  servant  to  give  one  of  those  little,  diffident, 
poor-relation,  come-to-borrow-money  sort  of  knocks. 
Alonzo's  appeal  was,  after  some  delay,  answered  by  a 
smart,  rosy-cheeked  maid,  all  ringlets  and  blue  ribands, 
whose  clothes  Master  Grimstone  Tymmons  was  exert- 
ing all  the  strength  of  one  hand  to  tear  off  her  back,  for 
in  the  other  he  held  a  thick  piece  of  bread  and  butter, 
veneered  with  raspberr)' jam  ;  his  mouth  being  also  full 
of  the  same  horticultural  and  agricultural  condiments, 
prevented  his  enforcing  his  commands  by  words  as  ex- 
plicit and  compulsory  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  using, 


232  CHEVELEY  ;  OR, 

which  drove  him  to  the  argumentum  ad  hominem,  to 
the  great  danger  of  Mary  the  maid's  chali  dress,  the  gift 
of  Miss  Seraphina,  as  a  reward  for  her  having  once 
gone  at  midnight  and  knocked  up  the  people  at  the  li- 
braiy  to  get  her  a  novel. 

"  My  dear  Grimthtone,"  said  the  fond  mother,  in  a 
voice  so  piano  that  it  could  not  have  intimidated  a  fly, 
"  you  really  mulht  not  be  tho  naughty ;  now  go  in,  love, 
do,  and  you  thall  pull  Ithabella's  hair,  if  you  like." 

"  But  Isabella's  paying,  and  se  won't  et  me,"  bread- 
and-buttered  Master  Grimstone. 

"  Ah,  ye  young  vagabone !"  said  Hoskins,  striding  into 
the  hall,  and  seizing  the  unfortunate  urchin  with  both 
hands  by  the  throat  and  suspending  him  in  air,  "  come 
here  till  I  show  you  London." 

Great  but  unavailing  were  the  screams  of  Master  Grim- 
stone,  as  his  mother  left  him  to  his  fate,  to  open  the 
drawing-room  door  for  Miss  MacScrew.  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons  piqued  herself  upon  her  drawing-room.  It  was  a 
square  room,  of  tolerable  dimensions,  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  hall,  opposite  the  dining-room  and  Mr.  Tym- 
mons's  study  ;  for  Miss  Seraphina  said  it  was  not  gen- 
teel to  call  it  an  office.  From  the  centre  of  the  draw- 
ing-room was  suspended  an  ormolu  lamp,  with  three 
circular  burners,  the  whole  of  which  was  now  defended 
against  the  flies  by  a  yellow  leno  bag,  as  was  the  frame 
of  the  looking-glass,  the  gilding  of  Miss  Tymmons's  harp, 
and  the  frames  of  the  portraits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons,  the  former  of  which  was  represented  with  an 
open  letter  in  his  hand,  with  a  very  large  red  seal  on  it, 
a  volume  of  Blackstone  open  on  a  table,  with  a  bundle 
of  papers  tied  with  red  tape,  and  a  red  morocco  spec- 
tacle-case ("  Bradbury,"  in  gilt  letters,  upon  it)  lying 
on  the  Commentaries,  while  in  the  back  ground  hung  a 
purple  stuff"  bag,  apparently  very  full.  This  graced  the 
space  over  the  looking-glass,  and  on  the  opposite  wall 
hung  the  effigy  of  Mrs.  T.,  in  a  black  satin  gown,  with 
a  pointed  body,  a  white  blonde  scarf,  and  a  gold  tissue 
turban.  On  her  lap  sat  a  baby,  with  a  coral  and  gilt 
bells,  which  formed  a  rich  and  Titian-like  contrast  to 
the  white  kid  gloves  upon  its  mother's  hands.  Papier- 
machee-looking  miniatures  of  the  younger  branches  of 
the  family  graced  each  side  of  the  chimney-piece ;  and 
one,  in  especial,  of  Mr.  Algernon  Tymmons,  who  having 
attained  to  a  company  in  the  Bengal  cavalry,  his  fond 


THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR.  233 

mother  had  had  him  drawn  in  full  regimentals,  blowing 
the  bugle. 

Though  far  advanced  in  October,  no  fire  dimmed  the 
brazen  brightness  of  the  grate,  for  Mrs.  Tj^mmons  never 
allowed  fires  before  the  first  of  November  ;  her  mother, 
and  grandmother,  and  great-grandmother  before  lier,  had 
never  done  so,  and  the  weather  was,  of  course,  the  same 
now  as  it  had  been  then ;  so,  instead  of  fire,  was  sus- 
pended, hke  a  curtain  before  the  bars,  an  elaborate  hon- 
eycomb of  yellow  silver  paper.  The  carpet  consisted 
of  beautiful  drab  squares,  with  bunches  of  blue  flowers 
upon  them,  intersected  with  blue  circles  and  drab  bou- 
quets ;  but  particuh^rly  clean  and  cold-looking  brown 
hoUand  defended  the  chief  part  of  its  beauties  from  pro- 
fane footsteps.  The  chairs  were,  of  course,  rosewood, 
covered  with  blue  tabouret  cushions  and  brown  hol- 
land  dressing-gowns,  and  were  ranged  so  regularly  and 
fixedly  along  the  wall  that  they  looked  as  if  nothing 
short  of  galvanism  could  move  them.  Two  stiff,  hard, 
boarding-school-looking  sofas  fac  similed  each  other  at 
either  side  of  the  fireplace.  The  knicknackery  of  the 
room  consisted  of  divers  plates,  kettles,  and  inkstands, 
intended  to  imitate  old  Dresden  by  large  red,  orange, 
blue,  and  green  clumsily-cut  flowers,  but  bearing  a  much 
stronger  resemblance  to  the  carrot-and-turnip  floral  em- 
blems on  the  hams  and  tongues  at  one  of  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons's  own  dinners.  These,  with  jardinieres  filled  with 
worsted  and  cloth  dahliahs,  perforated  card-screens,  with 
Berlin  work,  and  little  egg-cuppy-looking  vases  festoon- 
ed with  rico-paper  flowers,  formed,  with  the  addition  of 
a  few  annuals,  and  pens  with  bead  devices,  and  Ilessian- 
boot-looking  tassels  at  the  end  of  them,  the  ornamental 
part  of  the  furniture.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room, 
with  purple  nose  and  still  more  purple  hands,  sat  Miss 
Isabella  Tymmons  at  a  grand  piano,  thumping  out  de- 
tachments of  the  Huguenot  galope. 

"  My  dear  Bella,"  said  ]Mrs.  Tymmons,  as  Miss  Mac- 
Screw  and  Mr.  Hoskins  seated  themselves  on  one  of 
the  Grandisonian-looking  sofas,  and  Mrs  Tymmons  re- 
ceived her  son  from  the  latter ;  "  My  dear  Bella,  I'm  sure 
you've  practhithed  long  enough ;  and  do  let  poor  Grim- 
my  pull  your  hair,  or  do  anything  to  keep  him  quiet, 
while  I  go  and  speak  to  your  pa  on  buthineth." 

"  Really,  that  child  is  so  spoilt,  there  is  no  bearing 
him,"  said  Miss  Isabella,  rising  pettishly  and  advancing 
U  2 


234  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

to  shake  hands  with  Miss  MacScrew  and  her  cousin 
Peter. 

Leaving  the  latter  to  press  his  suit  as  he  best  might, 
Mrs.  Tymmons  waddled  out  of  the  room  "  to  see  about" 
luncheon  and  "  after"  her  husband.  Upon  opening  the 
"  study"  door,  she  found  her  spouse  (though  only  one 
o'clock)  with  his  legs  considerably  elongated  under  the 
archway  of  the  library  table,  his  hands  in  the  pockets 
of  his  smallclothes,  his  shoulders  shrugged  up  till  they 
supported  his  ample  ears,  his  under  lip  much  protruded, 
and  widely  severed  from  the  upper,  while  a  loud,  deep, 
and  sonorous  grunting  gave  unequivocal  evidence  of  his 
being  fast  asleep.  On  one  side  of  the  table  lay  Tom- 
lin's  Law  Dictionary,  open  at  quare  impedit ;  and  before 
him  a  letter  he  was  writing  to  the  Dowager  Lady  de 
Clifford,  over  which  he  had  apparently  fallen  asleep  at 
the  following  sentence,  as  it  was  the  last  written. 
"  Grantee  of  a  next  avoidance  may  bring  this  writ  against 
the  patron  who  granted  the  avoidance — 39  Hen.  6." 

Mrs.  Tymmons  glanced  her  eye  over  the  letter,  and 
then  shaking  her  lord  rather  roughly,  said,  "  Really, 
Mithter  Tymmons,  I  think  your  patron  may  bring  this 
writ  against  you,  if  this  is  the  manner  in  which  you  fall 
asleep  over  her  buthineth ;  besides,  here  is  Peter  Hos- 
kins  has  insisted  upon  dining  with  us,  to  carry  on  his 
nonsense  with  Miss  MacScrew ;  and  if  the  old  lady 
should  hear  of  our  letting  him  into  the  house,  after  the 
way  in  which  you  have  pretended  to  abuse  him  to  her, 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  will  be  the  conthequenth." 

"Eh,  eh  !"  muttered  Mr.  Tymmons,  rolling  his  head 
more  to  the  left,  without,  however,  opening  his  eyes,  and 
letting  the  words  fall,  much  mutilated,  out  of  his  mouth. 
"Pleas  in  bar,  such  as  a  release,  the  statute  of  limita- 
tions, agreement  with  satisfaction,  «&;c.,  &c.,  destroy  the 
plaintifi's  action  for  ever;  but  pleas  in  abatement  are 
temporary  and  dilatory,  and  do  not  destroy  the  action — 
only  stop  the  cause  for  a  while,  till  the  defect  is  re- 
moved. Take  away  the  mutton,  and  bring  the  goose ; 
d — d  tough,  Mrs.  T. ;  d — d  tough  !  Send  those  children 
out  of  the  room.  The  general  issue  of  general  plea 
is  what  traverses,  thwarts,  and  denies  at  once  the 
whole  declaration,  without  offering  any  special  matter 
whereby  to  evade  it.  As  in  a  trespass,  either  vi  et  armts, 
or—" 

"  Mithter  Tymmons !"  screamed  his  better  half,  sha- 


THE   MAN   OF   HONOUR.  235 

king  him  so  roughly  by  the  arm  that  his  throat  rattled 
as  though  he  were  dying,  and  he  opened  one  eye  very 
widely,  exclaiming,  "  God  bless  my  soul !  what's  the 
matter!" 

"  Matter  enough,  Mr.  Tymmons ;  what  a  pretty  ex- 
ample it  ith  to  your  souths  to  thee  you  thleeping  away 
your  whole  time  in  thith  way  1" 

Mr.  Tymmons  now  opened  both  his  eyes,  removed 
his  hands  from  the  pocket  of  his  unmentionables, 
stretched  them  above  his  head,  and  gave  one  loud,  long, 
"  sleep-no-niore"  sort  of  yawn.  After  which,  placing 
his  arm  round  his  wife's  waist,  and  drawing  her  towards 
him,  said,  "  Well,  duckey,  what  is  it!" 

"  It  is  too  bad  your  being  fast  athleepat  thith  time  of 
day,"  persisted  Mrs.  Tymmons. 

"  Ehem,  I  never  sleep,  lovey,  when  you  are  with  me," 
said  the  tender  Tymmons,  with  a  look  that  would  have 
brought  any  other  man  into  Doctors'  Commons. 

"Well,  but,  dear,"  euphonized  Mrs.  T.,  condescend- 
ingly seating  herself  upon  his  knee,  and  stroking  his  fat 
red  cheek,  "  you  really  should  not  thleep  in  the  middle 
of  the  day,  and  I  want  to  speak  to  you  upon  buthineth." 

"  Your  business  is  my  pleasure,"  replied  the  gallant 
husband,  taking  his  wife's  fat  face  in  both  his  hands, 
and  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  voluminous  hps  ;  "  what 
is  it,  my  lily!" 

"  Why,  here'th  Mither  Hothkinth  inthith  upon  dining 
with  uth  to-day,  because  Miss  MacScrew's  here." 

"  Egad,  that's  capital,"  cried  Mr.  Tymmons,  rubbing 
his  hands.  "  I'll  give  him  every  opportunity  of  winning 
his  bet,  though  it's  against  myself;  but  if  he  gets  the 
old  girl,  it  will  be  such  a  famous  thing  for  the  family!" 

"  Yeth,  but  while  heth  talking  over  the  old  girl,  how 
will  you  talk  over  the  old  lady !"  asked  Mrs.  Tymmons. 

"  Oh,  easily  enough  ;  leave  that  to  me  ;  I  have  not  been 
humbugging  her  these  four  years  without  knowing  how 
to  manage  her.  I  must  only  lay  it  on  a  little  thicker 
about  her  being  so  exceedingly  clever,  and  having  such 
a  wonderful  knowledge  of  business ;  abuse  Hoskins  a 
little  more,  and  not  look  too  business-like  myself,  so  as 
to  let  her  think  she  could  easily  overreach  me ;  inter- 
lard my  letters  with  similes  and  poetry,  and  that  sort  of 
thing,  which  Rush  can  always  supply  me  with,  you 
know,  lovey,  and  then  I  can  knead  her  like  dough." 

"  Ah,  you  gentlemen"  (for  common  people  never  say 


236  CHEVELEY  ;  OR, 

men  and  women)  "  are  sad  dethievers,  sad  dethievers," 
said  Mrs.  Tymmons,  with  a  most  proper  wifely  look  of 
conscious  inferiority,  and  vivid  admiration  for  the  stu- 
pendous structure  of  her  husband's  masculine  intellect. 
"  Now,  lovcy,"  resumed  her  sposo,  drawing  his  chair 
close  to  the  table  and  dipping  his  pen  into  the  ink,  "  let 
me  finish  my  letter  to  the  old  lady,  and  order  dinner  at 
half  past  four,  and  be  sure  we've  a  bottle  of  that  old 
Burgundy  port  that  I  bought  at  Lord  Cramwell's  sale, 
for  Hoskins  likes  a  good  bottle  of  wine  as  well  as  any 
man ;  and  perhaps,  by  dint  of  it,  I  may  get  him  to  sup- 

f)ress  that  pamphlet  about  Mary  Lee  ;  for  it  won't  do  to 
et  him  go  too  great  lengths  against  this  family,  espe- 
cially as  I  have  had  Richard  Brindal  with  me  all  the 
morning,  who  tells  me  that  Mary  Lee  positively  refuses 
to  marry  him,  so  that  scheme  has  failed ;  and  if  every 
other  does  too,  the  old  lady  may  begin  to  suspect  both 
my  abilities  and  my  allegiance,  and  that's  what  must 
not  be.  So  you  must  tell  Hoskins,  ducky,  that  unless 
he  is  content  to  be  more  pacific  towards  the  dowager 
for  the  future,  and,  moreover,  to  publicly  attribute  his 
being  so  to  my  remonstrances  and  interference,  he  need 
not  expect  any  trystrings  with  Miss  MacScrew  in  this 
house." 

"  I  will,  dear,"  responded  Mrs.  Tymmons,  moving 
towards  the  door. 

"  And,  lovey,"  cried  Mr.  T.,  calling  her  back,  "  be  sure 
we  have  some  souse,  for  I  am  particklar  partial  to 
souse."* 

As  Alonzo  was  not  only  charioteer,  but  "  cliief  but- 
ler," the  asses  could  not  be  fed  till  the  horse  was  at- 
tended to ;  consequently,  Mrs.  Tymmons  had  to  fuss 
about  for  some  time  before  the  luncheon  was  ready,  to 
Miss  MacScrew's  no  small  annoyance ;  for,  being  both 
cold  and  hungry,  the  warmth  of  Mrs.  Hoskins's  protes- 
tations became  doubly  disagreeable  to  her ;  but  when 
luncheon  was  announced,  and  he  led  her  into  the  dining 
room,  he  contrived  to  transfer  such  a  quantity  of  cold 

*  As  there  may  be  persons  in  the  world  as  ignorant  as  I  myself 
was  respecting  souse,  till  I  discovered  what  it  was  in  an  American 
cookery  book  that  recently  came  in  my  way,  I  think  it  right  to  im- 
part the  information  I  then  and  there  acquired,  by  informing  such 
ignoramuses  that  souse  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  macadamized 
pig's  feet  and  ears,  plunged  into  a  Stygian  lake  of  vinegar,  and  mum- 
mied with  spices. 


THE    MAN    OP   HONOUR.  237 

beef  and  mashed  potatoes  to  her  plate,  that  in  a  short 
time  slie  became  not  only  affable,  but  facetious,  as  she 
crammed  herself  into  good-humour. 

"  Now,  to  prove  what  stories  you  tell,"  said  she  to 
the  amiable  Peter,  her  mouth  so  full  as  to  render  her 
words  almost  inaudible,  "  you  say  you  would  do  any- 
thing if  I  would  marry  you — he!  he!  he!  Now  the 
only  thing  that  would  make  me  marry  you,  I  know  you 
would  not,  and  could  not  do — he  !  he  !  he !'' 

"  Name  it,"  said  Peter,  gallantly,  "and,  be  it  what  it 
may,  augh  tak  my  cousin  Sarah  and  the  girls  to  witness 
that  aughll  do  it;  and  if  ye  prefere  the  promise  being 
legally  attested,  augh'U  call  in  Mr.  Tymmons,  so  just 
say  what  it  is." 

"  He  I  he  !  he  !"  tittered  Miss  MacScrew,  "  you  can't, 
can't ;  so  I'm  quite  safe,  quite  safe.  You  would  not 
play  a  tune  on  the  fiddle  in  the  midst  of  one  of  your 
sermons,  now,  would  you  ?"  said  she,  triumphantly. 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Iloskins's  visage  elongated,  but 
soon  rallying,  he  replied,  "  Well!  yes,  even  that  augh'U 
do  ;  but  augh  don't  know  if  I  can  pley  the  feedle,  be- 
cause, ye  see,  augh  never  tried  ;  and  as  it  may  tak  me 
some  Icetle  time  to  laren,  augh  should  like  to  know 
how  long  ye'd  give  me  to  do  it." 

"  Oh,  till  doomsday,  till  doomsday,"  chuckled  Miss 
MacScrew. 

"  Augh  declare  that  sort  of  ad  grcccas  calcndas  is  not 
fair,  and  augh  think  augh  ought  to  insist  upon  a  definite 
time  being  named  for  the  match  to  come  off,  as  they 
say  on  the  turf,"  cried  Hoskins. 

"Moth  dethidedly,"  said  Mrs.  Tymmons  and  her 
daughters  unanimously,  the  latter  much  amused  at  the 
trap  Miss  MacScrew  had  got  herself  into,  for  they  knew 
their  worthy  cousin  to  be  a  man  capable  de  tout- 

"  But."  resumed  Mrs.  Tymmons,  who  thought  it  only 
prudent  not  to  appear  too  eager  in  forwarding  her  kins- 
man's designs,  "  you  surely  never  would  or  could  play 
the  violin  in  the  pulpit ;  it  would  be  thuch  a  dithgrathe 
to  a  clergyman,  and  particularly  to  you,  who  have  given 
uth  thuch  evangelical  dithcourtheth  of  late." 

"That's  the  vi.ry  reason,"  said  Peter,  "augh'U  not 
only  do  it,  but  augh'U  mak  it  an  instrument  of  great 
instrooktion  to  my  congregation.  Augh  don't  see  why 
sarmons  may  not  be  foond  in  feedles  as  well  as  stones, 
and  goode  in  ai'erything." 


238  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

"  He'll  never  do  it,"  whispered  Mrs.  Tymmons,  very 
diplomatically,  to  Miss  MacScrew,  "  he  couldn't ;  you 
know  it  would  be  quite  impossible  ;"  and  then  added 
aloud,  as  if  to  play  off  Hoskins,  "  Now  really,  my  dear 
Mith  MacScrew,  you  ought  to  name  thome  fixed  period 
for  putting  my  couthin  to  the  tetht,  after  thuth  a  gallant 
offer  on  hith  part." 

"  Yes,  you  really  ought,"  chorussed  the  young  ladies. 

"  He,  he,  he  !"  giggled  Miss  MacScrew,  abstractedly 
helping  herself  to  some  more  beef;  "well,  next  mid- 
summer, then,  next  midsummer ;  fine  v/eather  you 
know,  fine  weather,  and  the  church  will  be  fuller." 

"  Very  true,  only  it's  a  long  time  to  wait,  for  many  a 
slip  between  the  cup  and  the  lip ;  but  we'll  make  sure 
of  one,  at  all  events,"  said  he,  pouring  out  two  glasses 
of  wine,  and  presenting  one  to  Miss  MacScrew,  while 
he  took  the  other  himself.  "  Here's  success  to  our 
wishes,  Avhich  ye'U  alloAv  is  fair.  Miss  MacScrew  ;  for 
though  augh  don't  know  what  your  wishes  may  be,  I 
know  perfectly  what  my  own  are." 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Joseph  Tymmons  entered,  hav- 
ing just  returned  from  a  wedding  five  miles^ff.  and 
gave  a  most  glowing  description  of  the  bride's  beauty 
and  bonnet,  and  of  the  bridegroom's  waistcoat  and 
Waterloo  blue  cravat. 

"  Our  wedding  shall  beat  all  the  weddings  that  have 
been  for  the  last  century,"  whispered  Peter,  drawing 
his  chair  so  close  to  Miss  MacScrew's  that  he  nearly 
found  himself  in  her  lap. 

"  Get  away,  get  away,"  said  she,  backing  her  chair, 
and  beating  him  away  with  her  hand  as  one  does  a  wasp ; 
"  get  away. 

"  '  She  partly  is  to  blame  who  has  been  tried ; 
He  comes  too  near  who  comes  to  be  denied,' 

you  know." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  augh  know  that's  not  worth  coming  for; 
but  augh  hop  to  come  for  something  better  next  mid- 
summer." 

"  Where  ith  Rush,  Joseph  ■?"  inquired  Mrs.  Tymmons. 

"  Oh !"  said  Joseph,  "  in  the  clouds,  as  usual.  He 
went  to  see  the  industrious  fleas  yesterday,  and  has 
been  writing  an  ode  on  them  ever  since." 

"  Ith  quite  shocking,"  moaned  Mrs.  Tymmons ;  "  he 
studies  so  hard  he'll  kill  liimself." 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  239 

•'  No  doubt,  he'll  go  out  like  a  rushlight  some  of  these 
days,"  said  Peter,  with  one  of  his  stentorian  laughs. 

"  Oh,  you've  no  thoul  for  poetry,"  said  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons ;  "  but,  really,  some  of  hith  things  are  quite  ath 
good  ath  Lord  Byron's  !"    " 

"  Very  likely,"  replied  Hoskins,  with  great  gravity : 
"  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  must  be  a  great  source  of 
satisfaction  to  you,  Sarah,  to  think  that  he'll  never  write 
anything  as  bad  as  Don  Juan,  Heaven  and  Earth,  and 
the  Vision  of  Judgment." 

"It  ith,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Tynimons,  turning  up  her 
eyes  with  an  exulting  look  of  maternal  pride  and  gratu- 
lation. 

Here  a  short  pause  ensued  in  the  conversation,  while 
Alonzo  was  summoned  to  take  away  the  things.  Till 
four  o'clock  nothing  of  any  importance  occurred,  except 
Master  Grimstone's  stealing  a  lump  of  damson  cheese 
with  his  fingers,  as  it  was  exiting  with  Alonzo,  and  after- 
ward surreptitiously  wiping  the  aforesaid  fingers  in  the 
back  of  Miss  MacScrew's  dress,  which  varied  without  im- 
proving it ;  but  at  four  o'clock  a  deep  and  solemn  sound 
was  he»W;  it  was  Alonzo  outside  the  drawing-room 
door,  giving  three  distinct  thumps  with  the  kitchen-po- 
ker against  the  lid  of  a  copper  fish-kettle.  This  was  an 
invention  of  the  gifted  Seraphina's,  who  knew  that  at 
Blichingly  Park,  Campfield,  and,  in  short,  all  the  great 
houses  she  had  ever  heard  of,  a  gong  announced  to  the 
assembled  guests  when  it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner, 
and  this  was  the  best  imitation  of  it  she  could  devise. 
As  Miss  MacScrew  invariably  transferred  the  black  ho- 
lyoaks  from  the  Leghorn  bonnet  to  the  pocket-hand- 
kerchief toque  for  dinner,  she  ascended  with  the  young 
ladies  for  the  purpose  of  doing  so.  which  left  Mrs.  Tym- 
mons  an  opportunity  of  making  known  her  husband's 
wishes  to  Mr.  Hoskins,  and  extorting  from  him  (in  the 
plenitude  of  his  delight  at  having  so  far  succeeded  with 
Miss  MacScrew)  a  promise  to  comply  with  them. 

The  young  ladies  and  their  guest  had  scarcely  re-de- 
scended to  the  drawing-room,  and  been  joined  by  Mr. 
Tymmons  (who  entered  in  high  good-humour,  having 
succeeded  in  coaxing  his  wife  into  having  a  fire  in  the 
drawing-room),  when  that  universal  genius  and  ubiqui- 
tous individual,  Alonzo,  announced  dinner,  which  he 
had  no  sooner  done  than  a  great  deal  of  sprightly  badi- 
nage ensued  between  Messrs.  Tymmons  and  Hoskins, 


240  CHE VE  LEY  ;    OR, 

as  to  which  of  them  should  have  the  honour  of  taking 
Miss  MacScrew  in  to  dinner;  Mr.  T.  wittily  observing, 
that  it  was  more  lawful  (!)  for  him  to  do  so,  and  Mr.  H. 
replying  with  equal  wit,  that  it  was  more  orthodox  for 
him  to  do  so,  adding  another  spice  of  pleasantry  in  the 
further  assertion  that  he  was  a  young  man  on  his  pref- 
erment ;  this,  of  course,  decided  the  point.  As  every 
one  must  have  some  Tymmonses  among  their  acquaint- 
ance, and  must  have  dined  with  them  at  election  or 
other  times,  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  describe  the  fuss 
that  took  place  respecting  seats  upon  their  entering  the 
dining-room,  and  the  jokes  which  warmed  the  guests 
but  cooled  the  dinner,  about  "  the  gentlemen  dividing 
the  ladies,"  while  Mr.  Hoskins  assured  his  cousins, 
with  a  wink,  that  they  ought  to  hold  up  their  heads,  for 
he  was  sure  they  would  not  always  have  to  sit  next 
their  brothers ;  and  though  certain  events  might  give 
him  more  to  do,  yet,  for  all  that,  he  sincerely  wished  it. 
Here  followed  a  great  deal  of  blushing  and  twisting  of 
ringlets,  and  "  Law,  what  do  you  mean  V  from  the 
young  ladies. 

At  length  they  were  actually  seated,  but  not  without 
poor  Miss  MacScrew  having  been  twice  made  to  change 
her  seat  nolens  nolens,  from  the  assurance,  first,  that 
she  was  too  hot  at  that  side,  and  then  that  she  was  too 
cold  at  the  other,  she  vehemently  but  vainly  denying 
both  charges.  Mrs.  Tymmons,  like  Mrs.  Primrose,  al- 
ways "  carved  all  the  meat  for  all  the  company,"  and 
spent  every  moment  that  she  was  not  eating,  in  prais- 
ing everything  on  the  table,  and  assuring  every  one 
that  it  was  the  best  in  the  world,  which  she  did  by  the 
elegant  exclamation  of  "  Oh  my !  did  you  ever  taste 
the  like  of  that?"  and  those  not  in  the  habit  of  dining 
Ihere  could  with  truth  answer  Never ! 

"  On  hospitable  thoughts  intent,"  she  not  only  helped 
everything,  but  deluged  everything  she  helped  with  melt- 
ed butter,  to  the  no  small  annoyance  of  Miss  Seraphi- 
na,  who  knew  that  all  such  condiments  ought  to  be 
handed  round ;  but,  alas !  as  Alonzo  was  not  Briareus, 
she  dared  not  even  hint  at  this  ambulating  circular  re- 
form. Another  thing,  too,  that  greatly  disgusted  her  (as 
well  it  might),  were  the  sulphureous-looking  straw  mats 
that  Mrs.  Tymmons  persisted  in  under  the  dishes. 
Miss  Seraphina  had,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  ex- 
pressed her  opinion  of  them,  by  saying,  it  really  looked 


THB    MAN   OF   HONOUR.  241 

as  if  they  had  once  been  straw-bonnet  makers,  and  so 
had  used  up  all  their  spare  straw  when  they  left  off  bu- 
siness ;  but  even  this  did  not  do,  and  the  mats  stood 
their  ground.  Everything  at  the  table  was  an  imitation 
of  something ;  each  dish  might  have  been  labelled,  Aul 
navis,  cut  galerus ;  the  mutton  was  roasted  to  imitate 
venison ;  the  soup  was  mock  turtle  ;  potato  loaves  play- 
ed the  part  of  Risoles  without  anything  in  them;  and  a 
peahen  took  refuge  in  celery-sauce,  and  passed  itself 
off  for  a  turkey.  It  was  not  till  dinner  was  half  over, 
and  the  "gentlemen  had  asked  the  ladies"  over  and 
over  again  to  take  wine,  and  Mr.  Tymmons  had  praised 
his  "  Burgundy  port"  quite  as  much  as  his  wife  had 
lauded  the  dinner  and  the  cookery,  that  Mr.  Rush  Tym- 
mons made  his  entree,  his  throat  bare,  and  tempting 
assassination  ;  his  eyes  "  in  a  fine  phrensy  rolling,"  and 
apparently  totally  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  any 
one.  Miss  Seraphina  made  room  for  him  beside  her- 
self, which  she  was  in  duty  bound  to  do,  for  she  it  was 
who  was  the  cause  of  his  being  so  late,  for  she  was  al- 
ways telling  him  that  the  genius  of  every  aristocratic 
family  (when  there  was  one)  invariably  either  kept 
every  one  waituig  dinner  an  hour,  or  else  walked  in 
when  it  was  half  over.  Now  it  so  happened  that  this 
day,  of  all  days  in  the  year,  poor  Mr.  Rush  was  most 
unpoetically  hungry :  but,  sooner  than  violate  the  aris- 
tocratic standard  of  genius,  he  had  stood  for  a  full 
quarter  of  an  hour  outside  the  dining-room  door,  quad- 
rupling his  appetite  by  ihefnande  steams  of  the  forbid- 
den feast. 

"  Why,  Rush,"  said  his  sire,  "  always  last." 

"  At  all  events,  I  hope  not  least,  sir,"  said  Mr,  Rush, 
modestly. 

"  No,  no,  that  ye  can  never  be  as  long  as  ye  are  six 
feet  high,  and  all  yer  brothers  so  much  shorter,"  said 
Hoskins,  with  a  laugh  and  a  wink  that  was  anything 
but  complimentary  to  Mr.  Rush's  greatness,  and  for 
which  that  gentleman  planned  lampoons  on  him  for  the 
rest  of  dinner. 

"  As  everything  is  cold  by  this  time,"  said  Mr.  Tym- 
mons, senior,  "  you  had  better  try  some  of  my  souse," 
pointing  to  the  seductive  plat  on  the  dumb-waiter  beside 
him.  Mr.  Rusli  looked  wild  boars  at  his  progenitor 
for  insulting  his  delicacy  by  such  a  proposition,  and 
glancing  at  a  chicken,  "  motioned"  to  Alonzo  to  bring 


242  CHEVELEY  ;    OR, 

him  some,  which,  when  he  had  discussed,  he  gallantly 
drank  toast  and  water  with  all  his  sisters,  for  he  never 
touched  wine.  When  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  very 
small  divers-coloured  worsted  doyleys  were  placed  be- 
fore every  one,  with  one  wineglass  upon  each,  and  Alon- 
zo  had  knocked  down  the  last  trayful  of  things,  Mr.  Hos- 
kins  became  so  alarmingly  demonstrative  to  Miss  Mac- 
Screw,  that  Mrs.  Tymmous  was  fain  to  do  something 
to  turn  the  current  of  his  thoughts;  and  seeing  Mr. 
Rush,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ceiling,  as  if  watch- 
ing the  arrival  of  a  new  cargo  of  ideas,  which,  no 
doubt,  came  straight  from  heaven  through  the  roof  of 
the  house,  as  people  always  look  for  them  in  that  di- 
rection, she  ventured  to  request  that  they  might  be  fa- 
voured with  a  sight  of  his  ode  upon  the  tleas. 

"  Now  do,  my  dear  Rush,"  urged  his  fond  mother, 
"for  I'm  thure  ith  beautiful,  hke  everything  you  write." 

Mr.  Rush  blushed  and  stammered,  and  declared  it  was 
not  yet  finished. 

"  Well,  but  let  uth  thee  as  much  of  it  ath  ith  done," 
entreated  his  mother. 

"  Why,  certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  said  the  obedient 
son,  glancing  round  the  table  for  further  suffrages. 

"  Do,  Rush,"  nodded  his  father,  who  again  began  to 
feel  somniferosuly  inclined,  and  who  knew  his  son's 
effusions  were  infallible  narcotics. 

"  Well,"  said  Rush,  withdrawing  the  precious  morceau 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  where  it  had  lain  like  a  love- 
letter  in  a  postofRce,  "  to  be  kept  till  called  for,"  "  re- 
member it's  noi  finished,  and  it's  an  irregular  ode" — and 
irregular  enough  it  certainly  was — "  and,  in  order  to 
make  you  understand  it,  I  should  tell  you  that  one  flea 
enacts  Napoleon,  another  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  two 
more  O'Connell  and  Lord  Alvanley  fighting  a  duel,  a 
whole  band  imitate  Strauss's,  while  two  young  fleas  are 
flirting  in  a  drawing-room,  and  the  mamma  flea  is  read- 
ing a  newspaper  and  does  not  see  them."  After  this 
clear  and  lucid  explanation,  Mr.  Rush  smoothed  the 
crumpled  ode  and  read  as  follows,  his  mother  exclaim- 
ing, by  way  of  prelude,  "  How  very  interesting !" 


THE    MAN    OF    HONOUR.  243 

ODE  TO  THE  INDUSTRIOUS  FLEAS ! 

Silent !  subtle  !  hopping  flea ! 
Napoleon's  self  may  be  in  thee  ; 
For  still  thou  dost  present  to  me 
A  marvel  and  a  mystery  ! 
But  Wellington  thoii  canst  not  be, 
Since  'tis  well  known  he  ne'er  did  flee. 
Then  jump  and  bite. 
And  take  thy  flight, 
Like  Joseph,  when  from  Zulica,  he 
Did  take  his  garments  up  and  flee, 
While  sages  say  ami  shake  their  head, 
"  'Twas  Fieance  did  it,  for  'twas  Fleance  fled." 
If  blame  you'd  shun, 
Ne'er  cut  and  run. 
But  what  is  this?     Oh  tire  and  fuel! 
Next  see  O'Connell  in  a  duel ; 
Nay,  surely,  sir,  the  mighty  Dan 
May  kill,  but  never  flee  his  man. 
Oh  keep,  St.  Kevin, 
His  vow  in  heaven  ! 
But  list !     Flea  fiddlers  fill  the  house 
With  sounds  not  quite  so  good  as  Strauss'; 
A  damsel's  in  a  ballroom  flirting. 
Her  mother's  chap'ronage  deserting  ; 
A  flea  in  ear 
She'll  get,  I  fear! 

"  That's  all  I've  done  yet,"  said  Mr.  Rush,  looking 
round  for  admiration. 

"  Oh,  very  clever,  very  clever  indeed,"  cried  Mrs. 
Tymmons  ;  "  in  fact,  tho  clever,  that  ith  not  every  one 
that  would  understhand  it." 

"  It's  a  gfreat  deal  cleverer  than  that,"  said  Hoskins, 
"for  augh  don't  think  there's  ony  one  who  could  under- 
stand it." 

"  Well,  that  ith  a  great  deal  for  you  to  thay,  Peter, 
and  your  praithe  ith  worth  having  about  poetry  (!)  ith 
so  hard  to  get,"  said  Mrs.  Tymmons  ;  "  and,"  continued 
she,  "  ihuch  a  pretty  compliment  to  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington, I'm  thure  hithe  gratlic  would  be  mucli  flattered 
if  he  heard  it,  and  he  could  not  doubt  ith  sintherity,  be- 
cauthe  you  are  futht  to  O'Connell,  calling  him  the  mighty 
Dan  ;  but  ith  quite  delightful,  my  dear  Rush,  to  thee  a 
young  man  of  your  age,  though  really  liberal  in  poli- 
tics, giving  merit  on  every  thide  where  merit  is  due." 

"  D — n  those  llecis  !"  muttered  Mr.  Tymmons,  start- 
ing from  his  slumbers;  "  iliey  are  all  over  me,"  con- 
tinued he,  scratching  the  back  of  his  hands. 


244   CHEVELEY  ;  OR,  THE  MAN  OF  HONOUR. 

"  There,  Master  Rush,"  laughed  Hoskins,  "  aiigh  ad- 
vise you  to  make  the  most  of  that,  for  it's  as  grat  a  com- 
phment  as  the  birds  pecking  at  the  grapes  of  Zeuxis." 

"My  dear,  my  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tymmons, 
screaming  at  her  spouse,  "  you're  going  to  sleep  again; 
let  uth  have  tea,  and  that  will  waken  you." 

Tea  was  accordingly  ordered,  and  all  the  cups  and 
spoons  rattled  immediately  under  Mr.  Tymmons's  ears, 
till  they  produced  the  desired  effect,  and  he  was  wide 
awake  as  every  attorney  ought  to  be.  This  enabled 
him  to  look  over  some  bills  ;  and  while  he  was  billing, 
Mr.  Hoskins  was  cooing,  which  delightful  amusement 
lasted  till  nine  o'clock,  at  which  hour  Miss  MacScrew 
invariably  left  "  the  festive  scene,"  for,  as  she  justly  ob- 
served, in  houses  where  there  was  no  supper,  there 
was  no  use  in  staying  any  longer,  as  it  was  only  lead- 
ing Sally  into  the  temptation  of  burning  a  rushlight,  as 
no  servant  could  be  trusted  to  sit  by  the  firelight  alone. 
Accordingly,  at  nine  o'clock,  Alonzo  appeared  with  lan- 
tern, clogs,  and  umbrella,  and,  flanked  by  the  obsequi- 
ous Peter,  Miss  MacScrew  was  escorted  back  to  Lav- 
ender-lane. 

Scarcely  had  she  left  the  house  before  Miles  Datchet 
(who  had  taken  leave  of  the  Lees,  Mrs.  Stokes,  and 
even  Madge,  during  which  last  ceremony  he  had  caught 
Freddy  Flipps  grinning  over  a  hedge,  and  for  which  he 
had  bestowed  upon  him  a  parting  drubbing,  with  a  ben- 
edictory prophecy  that  he  would  yet  ride  a  horse  foaled 
by  an  acorn)*  called  for  Mrs.  Tymmons's  despatches 
to  Lord  de  Clifford  and  his  mother,  as  he  (Datchet)  was 
to  start  for  the  Continent  early  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, where  it  is  high  time  we  should  follow  him. 

*  Come  to  the  gallows. 


KND.  OP  VOL.   I. 


Date  Due 


# 


